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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316135">chasin' love that was pointless (until it pointed me to you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaytiKazoo/pseuds/KaytiKazoo'>KaytiKazoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard Lance Hunter, Cheating, Endgame Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter, Extramarital Affairs, Hurt/Comfort, Leo Fitz &amp; Jemma Simmons Friendship, Leo Fitz is Holden Radcliffe's Son, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:47:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>74,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaytiKazoo/pseuds/KaytiKazoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz thinks his marriage to Grant Ward is perfectly happy and satisfying, until he gets a promotion and a death threat in the same day and is assigned a bodyguard, named Lance Hunter. There's something between him and Hunter that he can't deny, something he doesn't want to, and has to decide what's more important, this blossoming new love or his marriage.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz/Grant Ward, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He was supposed to meet Grant at the restaurant after work, but Weaver had wanted to go over his proposal again for the third time that day. She wanted to make sure that he was going to nail the presentation because it was extremely important to the lab that they land the contract. He went over it with her again, from the top all the way through to any questions he might need to field. When she was satisfied, she smiled at him and let him leave. Grant had texted him several times during his run-through with Weaver, the last one a terse </span>
  <em>
    <span>call me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz dialed as he carried his presentation back to his office, setting the prototype in its carrying case in his briefcase which he locked for extra protection. Weaver insisted. It didn’t take long for Grant to pick up with an upset, “hello?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, so, Weaver is definitely over-doing it. She made me go through my presentation again before I could leave for the day. I know I'm late. I’m so late.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Grant said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you grab some take away and meet me at home? I’m exhausted. I can’t even think of a date right now, I’m so sorry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” he said, and Fitz could hear his lack of amusement.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, love,” Fitz said. “I just want to sit on the couch with you, and eat some take away, and watch a movie I don’t care about, and just, just enjoy being around you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There was a noise at the other end that Fitz hated, the sound of displeasure from his husband. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Grant answered finally, but it clearly wasn’t okay. “I’ll see you at home.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Fitz offered as </span>
  <span>consolation.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Grant said, and then he disconnected. Fitz groaned and dropped into his desk chair. </span>
  <span>He should get up and head home, </span>
  <span>as to not disappoint Grant any more, but he sat in his chair, staring out at the sunset sinking down over the far horizon. It set the city on fire, all the glass and chrome red and orange. He </span>
  <span>used to love it here, love this view, but couldn’t wait to get out of the building and home to Grant. It seemed so </span>
  <span>long ago, though, when he’d sneak out of the lab early so he could surprise him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stretched and locked the prototype in the briefcase in his cupboard set with a different combination, also Weaver’s insistence. This project could change Shield Laboratories' trajectory and finally put them on the map alongside Stark Industries and Hydra Technologies. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz, go home. Rest up. I need you at your best,” Weaver said, standing in the doorway. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m headed out. I just wanted to secure the prototype before I go home,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate your effort on this project. It will be a great boost for the company, but also your career. You’re a valuable member of this team. Thank you, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s absolutely my pleasure,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him and headed down the hall towards the elevators. Fitz finished with the prototype and set to getting ready himself. He moved slow, not looking forward to Grant’s attitude. There had been a time when even when they were fighting, Fitz couldn’t wait to get home to see him. But now, Fitz didn’t want to hear about how he didn’t care about Grant, or how his job was more important than their marriage. Grant was a good husband, and Fitz loved him, but there were times where he thought that their relationship was the only thing in Fitz’s life. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Fitz pulled on his coat and made his way towards the exit. He texted Jemma while he waited for the elevator to come.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Thursday April 3, 6:33pm</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </b>
  <span>: Weaver is going to drive me insane with this presentation</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons</span>
  </b>
  <span>: Again?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </b>
  <span>: I’m just leaving now. Grant is pissed that I missed our reservation but what was I supposed to do?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>I’m sure he’ll get over it</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator opened and a man rushed off, crashing right into Fitz who had moved to step on. Fitz fell to the ground with the stranger on top of him, letting out a grunt.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” the man said, and finding Fitz’s eyes. “Sorry about that, mate.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My fault,” Fitz replied. He had a wonderful voice, and Fitz found comfort in his English accent the same way he always had since moving to America.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He was absolutely gorgeous, and Fitz had never seen hazel eyes quite like this man’s, gold and brown flakes bright. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I’m okay,” Fitz said. The man stood up off him and held his hand out. He took his hand and let the man lift him off the ground, marveling at his strength, the way his muscles moved in his arms, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Fitz had to stop staring, but he’d never seen anyone that made his heart race like this. “Thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator doors started to close and the man stuck his arm out to stop them, the sensor catching the movement and the doors sliding back into place.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I should let you go,” he said, and Fitz could tell he was looking Fitz over appraisingly, until he noticed the shine of his wedding band. “Have a good night.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch where you’re going,” Fitz replied lightly before stepping onto the elevator. The man smiled at Fitz, looked him over one last time, and then let his arm drop, the doors closing between them after a moment. Fitz hadn’t even gotten his name, but he felt a twinge of disappointment that he might never see that man again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Thursday April 3, 6:36 pm</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </b>
  <span>: I just saw the most beautiful man in the word</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Is it your husband?</span>
  <b>
    
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>No, someone at Shield knocked me to the ground at the elevators</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Are you okay?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Oh yeah I’m fine</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>A little in love?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Not love, but fascinated by how good his face was</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Wow you’re not usually aesthetics-driven</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Not usually, but you’d understand if you saw him</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Wow he must be attractive</span>
  <b>
    
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Getting in the car, text you later when I’m home</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Love you, be safe</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </b>
  <span>: Love you too</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He drove home to his apartment with Grant, set in a brand-new skyscraper without any personality on the very top floor. It was always cold, and Fitz swore the building swayed in the wind sometimes, but Grant loved the place so Fitz didn’t complain. He wanted to, but he’d mentioned a house once and had been shut down swiftly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz wanted a house in the countryside where they could have kids, enough room for them to run around, enough room for their family to grow. He didn’t want to raise a family in a bachelor pad penthouse. The thing was that he didn’t know if Grant wanted a family at all, they’d never talked about it. Fitz had tried, of course, even before they’d gotten married, but Grant had changed the subject and given him a look like he didn’t want to hear it. Fitz wasn’t sure what their future looked like. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He let himself into the apartment and stood in the entryway for a moment, listening for Grant.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant, are you home yet?” he finally called when he didn’t hear him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His husband had a tendency to walk around on tiptoes, not making a sound, and not turn on any lights, scaring the shit out of him often. Three years of marriage and Fitz wasn’t used to it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in the bedroom,” Grant replied. Fitz took off his shoes and then his jacket, carrying both towards the bedroom. He could see Grant at the end of the bed, hands in his lap, the bedside lamp on, leaving him silhouetted. “Did you take the long way home?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just hit traffic and, oh, this guy ran me over at the elevators.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz reached over and turned on the overhead light, and nearly flinched at Grant’s sour expression. He didn’t think Grant would ever hurt him, but he also didn’t like fighting with him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner’s on the counter. Might be a little cold now, though.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Fitz said, going to the closet and putting his shoes and jacket away. He undressed from his work clothes, dropping them in the hamper by the closet, and traded his work clothes for a pair of Grant’s sweatpants which he had to roll up a little given their height different, and an old </span>
  <span>uni</span>
  <span> shirt. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Grant, and studied him for a moment. He looked tired, the lines of his body less rigid than if he were actually angry about this. So, Fitz took a chance, padding over to him and nudging him backwards on the bed gently. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Grant asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a very long, stressful day, and I don’t want to fight with my husband,” Fitz said. He climbed into Grant’s lap and curled his hands in the front of his shirt. He was still wearing his dress pants and button down that he wore to their date. Fitz loosened the tie slowly, and kept his eyes on Grant’s. “I’m sorry, you know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Grant sighed. “Tonight was our first chance to see each other alone in weeks, and probably will be for the next few months while you go into production.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out his own quiet breath and pulled the tie over Grant’s head, tossing it towards the hamper.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. We’re alone now. We can eat our dinner in bed, and watch that true crime series you wanted to watch, and I can show you exactly how much I miss you too, and how sorry I am.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant hummed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You think you can buy my forgiveness with sex?” he asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no, Mr. Ward,” Fitz teased, “but I can at least buy your consideration, and you can decide from there.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz leaned in and kissed him gently, and his hands came to rest on Fitz’s thighs, heavy and warm. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky you’re pretty and convincing,” Grant said into his kiss, “or you’d be sleeping on the couch tonight.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And miss me </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Unlikely,” Fitz teased. “You’d come out halfway through the night and join me just like you always do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant rolled his eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you do, not me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled and kissed along Grant’s jaw.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can admit when you want me around, you know. It won’t ruin your reputation to say you care about your husband.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That is where you’re wrong,” Grant said, hands sliding up under Fitz’s shirt and resting against his stomach, feeling his belly move with his breaths. When they’d first gotten together, Grant would rest his head against Fitz’s chest, ear directly against him, and his hand against his belly, listening for his heartbeat and feeling his breath. He’d said it was because Grant was grateful Fitz was alive and safe, which Fitz had adored. Now he was indifferent to it. He was indifferent to a lot of things he’d once considered precious and adorable. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wrong about that,” Fitz replied, and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on Grant’s shirt and kissed his chest as he worked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But no matter, I have some consideration to buy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz had learned quickly that he could distract Grant easily with sex, and soothe his ego with letting him have dominion over Fitz’s body and pleasure, at least for a little while. He had avoided a lot of fights by sucking Grant off, especially in semi-public places.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner’s probably really cold now,” Fitz said as his stomach rumbled, laying side by side with Grant in bed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We can reheat it. Come here. I’m not done with you yet.”</span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>
    <span>Friday April 4, 8:46 am</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>I’m going to vomit</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>You’re going to do fine</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Wish you were here</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Me too</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>When are you transferring back?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>I can’t, you know that my work is here, and Daisy’s here</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Daisy’s there because you’re there</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Don’t you have a presentation to do?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>I might need to visit you soon, I miss you</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>You’re going to be great, Fitz! Call me when you’re done, I want to hear all about it.</span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“It was amazing, Jem!” he crowed once he was back in his own office, high from the adrenaline.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awesome,” she said. “Did you land the contract?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They committed to a million units for the first round of production,” Fitz breathed out and Simmons squealed. “I </span>
  <span>know</span>
  <span>. Holy shit!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He wished she were there with him. He’d wished that since Jemma had transferred to England with Daisy to run the London site’s </span>
  <span>biochem</span>
  <span> lab. He missed her, and Daisy, so deeply.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They want me to run the entire production, and over see it as the production manager,” he said. “It’s a promotion, Jem, with a hefty pay raise and I get to travel to the different production sites.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s amazing!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Best part is the main factory is in England. I’ll be able to visit you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so excited for you, but I’m also excited for me! I’ll get to see you again!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, and listened as she started listing off all of the stuff she’d show him in London as if he’d never been. He’d listen to Jemma Simmons talk about the fish and chips shop she’d found that Daisy didn’t appreciate, and about the new exhibits at the Science Museum that Daisy </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t appreciate, and anything else she wanted; he’d listen to her talk forever. He missed her so much.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you told Grant yet?” she asked after she’d settled. He was sitting at his desk, but he hadn’t unlocked his work station yet. He was too excited. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. “I don’t quite know how, yet. He’s not exactly, you know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, actually. What’s he like?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Jemma had always kept Fitz or Daisy between her and Grant, trying not to get too close to him. They didn’t have much in common, so Fitz didn’t consider it a concern. He and Grant barely had anything in common, but he loved him so that was a little different. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He might not like me being away from home for that long,” he said. “He gets a little cranky if I leave for too long. The last time I went home for the week, he was snappy for a month after.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s certainly obnoxious,” Jemma commented.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s alright. It’s not my favorite thing about him, obviously.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you say about a lot of things about him, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t get along perfectly,” Fitz said, trying not to turn defensive. She’d poked at him a little over the years, and Fitz wasn’t sure what she was looking for. “We can</span>
  <span>’t</span>
  <span> all be Daisy and Jemma, you know. Some of us are human.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel her eye roll emanating through the phone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t do anything,” she said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been friends for over a decade, Jemma. I can tell when you’re being a shit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You are, though.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Daisy’s home. I’m going to go, Fitz. Let me know how it goes with Grant.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Will do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you,” she said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up and put his phone on his desk, running his hand through his hair. Grant would admonish him for that, ruining his curls. It didn’t matter, Grant was across town doing investor things for his job. Fitz didn’t really understand what Grant’s job entailed, to be honest, because banking and investing were mysteries to Fitz that he was not interested in exploring. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz, good job, man,” Davis, one of the lab techs, said, leaning into his doorway.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Davis.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He gave Fitz a thumbs up before disappearing down the hall. He sighed, and put his mind back to his work. </span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When he got home, Grant had made dinner for him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” he asked, setting plates out on the dining table. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Brilliant,” Fitz said. “They booked a million units initially.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? That’s amazing!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant set down the dish he had in his hand and turned to look at Fitz.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Is that all?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took off his shoes and headed for the closet in the bedroom. He didn’t want to tell Grant much else. He certainly didn’t want to tell Grant about the offered promotion. As excited as he was about it, he wasn’t so thrilled about this part. Which was insane, of course. It was insane that Fitz didn’t want to share this great thing with his husband. He was being crazy. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He put his shoes away with his jacket and he went back out into the dining area where Grant was waiting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz said, and he sank down into a chair at the dining table. “Okay. It was really cool. It was, it was amazing, actually.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why do you sound like that?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I got offered a promotion.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo! That’s amazing,” Grant said, swinging around the table and grabbing his hands. “Why aren’t you more excited?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a traveling job,” Fitz said. “I’d be traveling to the sites to oversee production, and make sure safety standards are being followed, especially with how volatile the units can be mid-production before they’re stabilized.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Grant said, sinking to his knees in front of Fitz, hands still clasped together. “That’s okay. We’ll survive that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know how long I’ll be gone, or how often. It could be for weeks at a time, or, or, we don’t know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant leaned in and kissed him. His hands wandered up Fitz’s chest, his tongue slipping into Fitz’s mouth. He whimpered and leaned into Grant. After a long day worrying about what Grant was going to say, it was nice to have him right there, easing his worries. Grant broke the kiss and nudged his nose against Fitz’s. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you, you know,” Grant said. “I’m so happy for you. I want you to take the job, because you are extremely qualified. In fact, you’re the only person qualified. And Shield can’t do it without you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am one hundred percent sure. You deserve this.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Fitz murmured and let Grant envelope him in his arms with a kiss. Grant was warm, and his presence was soothing, but Fitz wondered why he hadn’t believe Grant would react so well. What did that say about his faith Grant, in their relationship?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have to celebrate. I think we have a bottle of champagne in the drink cart I was saving for our anniversary.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Grant stepped away, Fitz felt the cold doubt creep in, and gladly accepted the glass of champagne in order to bring some heat back in. Grant kissed him after dinner and brought him into their bedroom, stripping him of his clothes step by step. Fitz let him, going through the motions. In their bed, Grant had long since learned what Fitz liked, and was very good at giving it to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so easy to please, baby,” Grant said, kissing Fitz's ear while he stroked him firmly, fist tight around his cock. “So easy. Such a good boy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When Fitz came, he couldn’t even form Grant’s name, only a gasp and a grunt. Grant chuckled and wiped his hand on a blanket nearby. Fitz would have admonished him that they’d just washed the sheets, but he hadn’t regained his words yet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When he could breathe and think clearly, he pushed Grant onto his back and sucked him off, swallowing down his release so it didn’t get on the sheets below them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations,” Grant said again as he fit Fitz against his chest. He kissed between his shoulder blades and nuzzled sleepily into his back. “I love you, Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too,” Fitz replied.</span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>There was a ruckus in his department on Monday when he got to work, and Weaver summoned him to her office almost immediately. He passed a few lab techs on the way who whispered to each other as he went. In Weaver’s office, a man Fitz felt like he recognized was sitting in his usual seat.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I come back?” he asked, leaning into the doorway. Weaver smiled at him, but the expression was grim. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in, Leopold,” she said, which nearly froze him in place. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you firing me?” he asked, forcing himself to move. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not. What would make you ask that?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You called me Leopold,” he replied. “Which you never do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Come in, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took the other chair next to the man across from Weaver. He’d definitely seen the man somewhere. His hair was chopped short, and shorn on the sides, and the muscles in his arms moved as he shifted in his seat. He was most certainly Shield </span>
  <span>Labs</span>
  <span> security, going by his attire, and the gun at his hip. He had a Shield Labs jacket on with his last name printed across his heart, spelling out HUNTER.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t beat around the bus</span>
  <span>h</span>
  <span>, Fitz. News of the contract has already gotten out to the public, and not everyone is happy about the development. In fact, your name was leaked with the news and we’ve had a few threats against you specifically.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz glanced at the security officer beside him, which made sense suddenly. He was surprised they hadn’t had someone with him since he stepped into the building. Although, now that he thought about it, he had seen Hartley, the usual officer for his floor, lingering near his office. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The executives take your safety very seriously, and are leaving the decision of whether to go forward with the project as planned up to you. If you would feel safer at headquarters, and would like to pull production, we will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said immediately. “I’ve been developing this for years. I don’t want it pulled because of a couple of threats.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Weaver cocked her eyebrow at him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I’m not afraid of some anonymous person who doesn’t like me. I’d like production to continue.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Weaver nodded and said, “I expected that, if I’m being honest. You’ve never been one to back down in all of your years with us.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was how Fitz had become the head of the engineering research team so young. Weaver had called him relentless one. She wasn’t wrong.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I asked Hunter to join us. If you are set on moving forward with this, Hunter has been appointed to run your security team.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Team</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Fitz asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be a small team,” Hunter said, and as soon as he spoke, Fitz remembered him. This was the man from the elevator, who had knocked Fitz to the ground, with the beautiful face and the gentle voice. “Myself, and a few agents I’ve chosen myself will keep an eye on you until production is complete.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a lot of time,” Fitz said. “Are you sure?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your safety is my number one priority,” Hunter continued. “I will be your main security officer, while there will be two officers to watch your apartment building overnight.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that excessive?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hunter said. “Weaver said you might say that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked at Weaver who shrugged. She’d been his superior since he’d joined Shield at just eighteen-years-old, having recruited him and Simmons straight off their doctorate programs. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve already scaled back our typical security detail to fit what you might be comfortable with. Any more than that and I’m leaving you unprotected, and no offense, I’m not losing my job for that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked at Hunter, who looked at him easily and without flinching.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re okay with all of the traveling?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Hunter said. “While we’re traveling, it’ll just be me with you, as it’ll be harder for someone looking to hurt you to find you. At home, that’s easiest to plan around, so that’s the two agents outside.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want, while you’re traveling, we can leave agents outside to protect your spouse as well,” Hunter continued.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Spouse?” Fitz asked. His marriage to Grant wasn’t a secret but he hadn’t mentioned him. He hadn’t been worried about Grant, actually.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I noticed your wedding ring.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz ran his thumb over it with a shake of his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That won’t be necessary. Grant is capable of taking care of himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded. It wasn’t necessary for the agents to be there when Fitz was home either, because Grant would never let anything hurt him. But Fitz doubted Hunter could, or would back off any further. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This is effective immediately, Fitz, even if we haven’t completed the promotion,” Weaver added. “Hunter is as of now your personal bodyguard. Congratulations.”</span>
  
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter followed Fitz back to his office and sank into a chair across from Fitz’s, making himself at home. Fitz didn’t know what to say to him, so he elected for silence instead. He pulled up his schematics and double-checked them for clarity, adjusting what was necessary. He’d be sending this out to the production teams to start work, so this had to be precise. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up and watched Hunter for a few moments. He was working on a tablet propped up on his knee, focused on his work. Fitz wondered what a security officer worked on, maybe security plans or looking up cool guy sunglasses. Hunter looked up at him while he was still staring, and he panicked, looking back at his computer screen like he’d been caught being bad. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together for a while, so let me introduce myself properly. My name is Lance Hunter, I’m your personal security officer. I like football, and beers, and long hikes in the mountains.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo Fitz,” he replied as if Hunter wasn’t looking at the name plate on Fitz’s desk, or didn’t have a personnel file on Fitz. “I can’t say I enjoy long hikes but I do like football and beer, too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Proper football? Who’s your team, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Manchester United.” Fitz watched Hunter roll his eyes. “What about you, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Liverpool, obviously.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>obvious</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fitz scoffed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously </span>
  </em>
  <span>the</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>superior team, is all.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose that depends on your definition of superior. From where I sit, your team is certainly superior at losing.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter gasped dramatically and covered his heart with his hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You wound me, Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can just call me Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then, Fitz. You can call me Hunter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz enjoyed the way Hunter said his name, the way his accent curled it. It reminded Fitz of Jemma. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Fitz said. “I have a question about security during travel.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Hunter said. He closed the tablet and set it on Fitz’s desk.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I allowed to go other places besides the production sites and the hotel?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, of course.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My best friend lives in London, and I’d like to see her if that’s possible.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We can absolutely make that happen,” Hunter said. “I’d have to escort you, but I could stay at the perimeter to give you privacy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz thought, for a second, about how Hunter might look in Jemma’s flat with Daisy and him, laughing, drinking a beer, bickering about the movie they were watching. Grant didn’t quite fit in that space, not really. He was too serious, and his past kept him from making new friends. Hunter seemed like fun.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t be appropriate to ask him to join, but he thought about it, just for a moment.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I would really appreciate that. Thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this the Simmons of Fitzsimmons, then?” Hunter asked. Fitz knew that he and Simmons had a bit of a reputation. It had almost been company news when Jemma had taken the promotion for the biochemistry department head position that would transfer her to the London institute. He hadn’t expected Hunter to know about them, though. What did a security officer care about two science nerds?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She is, yeah,” Fitz said. “Her and her girlfriend transferred out to London when Jemma got her promotion. We hadn’t really been apart before that. We were little baby freshman together in college and completed our doctorates together.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz did not know why he was telling Hunter all of this. It wasn’t relevant to his job. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be hard, then,” Hunter said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, yeah. It’s gotten easier, missing her feels like a stab in the side, but I do still miss her. We call each other almost daily. She’ll be thrilled to hear there were threats against my life.” Hunter chuckled at that. “But she’ll also be glad that Shield is taking it seriously, and that you’re here now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s always good to have the best friend’s approval.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded, and looked at his work again. He wasn’t going to get much work completed, he was sure. Hunter was funny, and attractive, and Fitz was only human. As long as he only looked, that wasn’t cheating, right? He didn’t get upset when Grant fancied someone. Grant wouldn’t go any farther than that, and Fitz trusted him. Mostly. So, Fitz could at least appreciate the view his new bodyguard awarded him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How serious are the threats?” he asked, just to get his mind off Hunter and his everything. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Serious enough,” Hunter said coolly. “I don’t know if the person will go through with any of it, but I’d rather you be overprotected and nothing happens than you be under-protected and end up hurt, or worse.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, unlikely that someone is going to try and shoot me and my husband on date night?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter laughed quietly to himself.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlikely,” Hunter agreed. “But not a zero percentage.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chewed on his lip, because he hadn’t considered that it was a non-zero percentage someone actually wanted to kill him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s why I’m here, Fitz, to take care of you, to keep you safe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz flushed with the idea of Hunter taking care of him. He would probably be gentle and soft, fingertips instead of – He pushed that thought away. There was nothing wrong with the way Grant took care of him. He was happily married to Grant, and there was nothing wrong at home.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz agreed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said, shuffling forward to the edge of his seat, and set his hand on Fitz’s desk, “you will be okay. I am very good at this. I have never lost someone.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Never?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head and said, “not one. We can go over my qualifications and track record if that’ll make you feel more secure with me being your security officer.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Fitz didn’t need the reassurance, sure that this threat was truly nothing. But then, part of him wanted to know more about Hunter, as much as possible. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m from Kent, son of a police officer. I was a part of the British Armed Forces for eleven years, and was a lieutenant in the SAS for half of that. I left the army and was given a position here at Shield as security. I have worked here for nearly a decade and have never had someone die on my watch. Although, in full disclosure, one man was hurt but that was entirely his own fault. He got drunk and taunted his stalker while I was taking a leak.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed and replied, “I promise not to do that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I don’t have a lot of rules. It’s my job to protect you and disturb your schedule as little as possible. I’m your protector, not your jailor. But I do ask that you don’t make my job harder by slipping out or taunting the person who made the threat.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, damn, there goes my weekend plans.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, mate,” Hunter replied.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His computer let out a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>ding</span>
  </em>
  <span> as a video chat invite came through. In the corner of his screen, he could see Jemma’s company profile picture waiting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, excuse me. Jemma seems to have found out,” Fitz said. Hunter laughed and leaned back, taking up his tablet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He put his headphones in and answered the invite. The Shield logo was replaced by Jemma’s face, frowning with a late afternoon sun behind her.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you hello me,” she said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay,” he replied. “Hi, then, Jemma.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not that either. I am cross at you, Leopold.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leopold</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he laughed. “What did I do to deserve that?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a death threat against you!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That was not my doing.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but you went ahead with the project.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not pulling the project, Jemma. Besides, I was assigned a security detail anyway.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>A security detail</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she asked. Jemma didn’t yell, not often. She was too English for that. This tone, though, was dangerous, and obviously displeased. It was the tone that made Fitz regret most things that he’d done. “Is it that serious? Who’s running the detail? It had better not be that incredible oaf –”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s actually here, if you want to meet my very own personal bodyguard.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked up from where he was working on his tablet, eyebrows raised.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He is?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, my body is here, so the guard is too,” Fitz replied lightly. He waved Hunter over and said to him, “if you don’t mind.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. Like I said, good to have the best friend on my side. Makes it easier.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter circled around the desk and ducked down into frame next to Fitz. Fitz offered him one of the headphones, and watched Hunter’s deft fingers push the bud into his ear. It was stupid, but Hunter had cute ears too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Jemma said pleasantly, and Fitz did not roll his eyes at how easy it was for her to switch. “Oh, you’re Lance Hunter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” he said, looking nervously between the screen and Fitz. “How’d you know?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Bobbi, actually. She works for me, in my lab,” Jemma said. “And I’ve seen your picture on her desk. She didn’t mention you worked for Shield.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Hunter agreed, ruffling his jacket with the Shield eagle. “She’s the one who got me the job.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re going to be protecting Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re going to do a good job, right? There’s no one like him, and –” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jemma,” Fitz started, but Hunter touched his arm and his brain shut down.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will take such good care of him,” Hunter promised. “As I assured Fitz, I am very good at my job. I will not let anything happen to him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Jemma stared at Hunter through the screen for a long moment before nodding.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I trust you, but if anything happens, I will send Bobbi after you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter said, and he saluted her seriously. She smiled and looked towards Fitz.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You be safe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he repeated. “Scout’s honors.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You were never a boy scout, but I appreciate the sentiment. Have a good day, boys.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>And then, she disconnected. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Hunter said, “she was certainly something.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed and took out the headphone. Hunter followed suit, and Fitz’s eyes went to his hands automatically. He couldn’t help it; he had always been drawn to hands.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Jemma Simmons for you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter rose and handed the earbud back to Fitz. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe your best friend works with Bobbi, or rather, is Bobbi’s boss.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He swung back around the desk, and took his seat again</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind me asking, who is Bobbi?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my ex-wife, actually.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you’d been married before,” Fitz said, like he knew anything at all about Hunter. He didn’t, Hunter was a stranger. Just because he wanted to get to know Hunter doesn’t mean he did know anything yet.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah,” Hunter said with a laugh. “That’s a whole story, which I will gladly tell you over lunch? What were you thinking? I could have something delivered to the office.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter grinned and Fitz delighted to find that Lance Hunter had dimples. </span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter was fascinating, and Fitz couldn’t keep his eyes on his work. At lunch, Hunter had Fitz’s favorite Indian takeaway brought in without asking.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you know?” Fitz asked as Hunter set the dishes on Fitz’s desk.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a spy,” Hunter teased. “Also, your menu is very telling. Your favorites are circled, and have a bunch of dots next to each one, like you marked them as you ordered. And I imagine the ones with less dots are Simmons’ order, since she’s been gone a while.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stared at Hunter who winked at him playfully. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m more than just a pretty face and an impressive physique.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes and pulled his food closer.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They actually said to me that they knew this order was for you,” Hunter continued. “They didn’t even need the Shield address for delivery. How often do you order, Fitz?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“About once a week. I just have to say my name now and they have it ready.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shrugged and gracelessly shoved a forkful of noodles into his mouth.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow, you’re trying something new.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, Fitz had an hour for lunch and finished his food in the first twenty minutes, then he ended up working the rest of his lunch to fill the void. But with Hunter there, he talked with Hunter for the full hour.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Bobbi,” Fitz said, taking a sip from his tea.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobbi,” Hunter replied. “Bob and I met on a mission when I was still with the SAS. We hit it off, and in some kind of alcohol and sex-induced haze, decided to get married. We barely knew each other, and it was not the best basis for a sturdy marriage. So, when we tried to make an honest go of it, we couldn’t stop fighting. We had this really big fight, like all out, and got divorced the next day. We didn’t speak for a while, and then I applied at Shield when I retired. Turns out that Bobbi found out I was applying, and recommended me, and that’s how I got the job. Once I was at a steady job in one place, she and I were on and off for a few years, then decided we were better off, and just as friends. Since, we’ve actually really connected and now she’s one of my best friends.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Fitz laughed. “That is a relationship, huh.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you meet her if you were in the SAS still?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobbi was at a conference, some science thing for Shield, and I had to go undercover to make sure one of the scientists there wasn’t dealing to someone on our watch list. I bumped into her at the bar, bought her a drink, and you know, the rest is history.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the plot of a spy movie, I swear.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you meet your husband, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Grant spilled his coffee on me,” Fitz said simply. “It was five years ago, I was at a coffee ship working on a design – actually, I think it was a design that would lead to the prototype for this project.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off thinking about the project again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, seems romantic,” Hunter commented. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh, yeah. He asked me out for a drink to make up for it. One date turned into two, turned into five years and a wedding.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been married, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Three years.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He turned the photo from his wedding, a small ceremony of their two best friends and Coulson, around for Hunter to see. Hunter wiped his fingers on a napkin before picking up the frame.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You look – is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Phil Coulson</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” he asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he officiated.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know Coulson?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy, actually, Grant’s maid of honor. She’s Coulson's daughter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know all of Shield royalty, huh?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve worked for Shield since I was eighteen years old. Hard not to at that point.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Hunter said. He set the frame down. “You really are a genius, huh. I’ve heard stories about </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fitzsimmons, these child geniuses that were changing the way Shield works, but I didn’t realize –”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He cut himself off with a shake of his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I heard so many stories that I forgot you’d be a real person. Like, you’d be married, and have a favorite Indian takeaway order that the restaurant knows you by name, and have been here since you were an actual baby.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not a baby. I had a doctorate, you know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a doctorate before most people have lost their virginity, mate. You were a child.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sure,” Fitz said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you do anything fun in college?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I met Simmons. We went to a lot of cool science talks and got to meet some of the greatest minds of our time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I have different definitions of fun, then”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That is fun!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but did you party, drink, fall in love, explore?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was – okay, I was in fact a child in college. You’re right. There wasn’t – I was young, and everyone around me was eighteen or older. Only Simmons was younger than me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And now that you’re an adult?” Hunter asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Ahh</span>
  <span>,” Fitz said because he couldn’t think of the last time that he did something fun. “I mean, I did get married.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter rolled his eyes at him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You and me, we’ll figure something else out. I’m </span>
  <span>gonna</span>
  <span> make you have fun; I promise you that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Because there’s more to you than I imagined, </span>
  <span>nd</span>
  <span> than what I think you realize, too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an odd bodyguard,” Fitz replied.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Had many of those in your life then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no, but – I suppose you’re not what I imagined either.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled and lifted his tea to his mouth to cover it. He was incredibly cute, Fitz noticed again, and couldn’t stop noticing. His eyes were gorgeous, a soft, golden hazel, surrounded by long, thick eyelashes. He was neatly groomed, and his clothes fit close to his frame. He was actually more Fitz’s side, his height but certainly more fit than Fitz. He was more suited to Fitz than – </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Hunter said, taking up their garbage to dispose of. “Get back to work, </span>
  <span>ya</span>
  <span> bum.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, surprised that the time had passed so quickly. There was something about Hunter that he couldn’t quite place, something alluring and distracting. He didn’t know what to do about it yet, but he had the time to figure it out.</span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter escorted him home, and into his apartment building with a low whistle. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“This is something,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Grant picked it out,” Fitz replied evenly. “You sure you have to walk me all the way inside?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Have to know the details of your apartment, make sure there’s some kind of security before I leave you alone.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a doorman,” Fitz said as they crossed the lobby, waving a Gerald, the doorman. He led Hunter over to the elevator and pressed the up button. The doors opened immediately. “And we have a security system in the apartment.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Grant’s paranoid and protective, so he makes me arm it when he’s not home.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“As he should,” Hunter said, following Fitz on. Fitz pressed the penthouse button. “Seriously? The penthouse?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shrugged.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant picked it out.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it, then?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a nice place. He’s there. That’s enough for me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your sentimentality is disgusting.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s probably home by now, so don’t get offended if he’s short with you. He’s not exactly personable with new people.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz wasn’t looking forward to this interaction, to telling Grant, to introducing them. He didn’t want Grant to know about the threats or that Hunter would be traveling with him round the world. He paused at the door and pretended he was fumbling with his keys when he was steadying his breath to step inside. Finally, he pushed the key home, and unlocked the apartment.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant?” he called. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“In the kitchen.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought someone home,” Fitz said. “Please be nice.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant came out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant, this is Lance Hunter, he is my personal bodyguard. Hunter, this is Grant Ward, my husband.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bodyguard?” Grant asked, eyebrow quirking. He looked at Hunter, face neutral. “Why do you need a bodyguard, Leo?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I assumed that you’d told him,” Hunter said. “I can wait outside.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s fine,” Fitz said. “Look, some people didn’t like the project, which I anticipated, honestly, and might’ve sent a few minor threats against the company, and me, and –” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant’s expression dropped.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They what?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to wait outside,” Hunter said, and Fitz didn’t stop him, instead heading forward to take Grant’s elbows to settle him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. They’re not serious. Probably. That’s why they sent Hunter. He’s going to be looking after me and making sure no one is trying to hurt me. When he’s not with me, there are two armed security officers from Shield outside.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t sound like nothing serious or minor, Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Fitz said softly. He slid his hands up Grant’s arms, over his shoulders, and to his neck. “I will be so careful. I will listen to everything the nice security man says. I will arm the apartment when you’re not here, and keep the </span>
  <span>taser</span>
  <span> where I can reach it at all times. I will be okay.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It didn’t seem like the kind of thing you text your husband, to be fair.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But bringing home your security officer out of the blue </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, maybe that wasn’t a good idea either. I don’t know, I’ve never been in this situation before. No one’s ever wanted to kill me over a tool before.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Grant agreed, and rested his forehead against Fitz’s. “Promise you’ll be safe. You won’t do anything stupid.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I do anything stupid?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I know what happens when you get an idea in your head. Especially if you visit Daisy and Jemma.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t do anything stupid. I want to come home to you at the end of everything. Can’t do that if I’m hurt or dead, right?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t joke about that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stood up on his toes and kissed Grant, slotting his lips with his husband’s, reveling in the feel of them together. He pushed the thought of Hunter out of his mind, how his lips might feel, how Fitz wouldn’t have to stretch or Hunter have to stoop for them to kiss.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be nice to my bodyguard?” Fitz asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can be nice,” Grant agreed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, let me get him. Be good, okay?” Fitz stepped away from Grant’s grasp and headed for the front door. Hunter was leaning against the wall outside of the apartment, checking his phone, clearly trying not to listen in to their conversation in the apartment. “Come on in. We’re sorted in here.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed and nodded Hunter inside. Hunter stepped back inside, and pulled the door shut behind him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I just need to check windows and security system, and I’ll let you guys be for the night.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Grant said, and his voice was a little stiff, but not outwardly aggressive so Fitz would take what he could get. This was progress. “For everything you’re doing for Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Hunter said. “It’s my job, but also my goal to make people a little safer. Why I got into personal security, actually.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz smiled at him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz, can you show me any fire escapes or accessible windows in the apartment?” he said, turning towards the apartment with a flourish of his arms. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, there’s one in the guest bedroom,” Fitz said, and he led Hunter towards it. In the bedroom, Hunter inspected the space, and stepped out of the window onto the fire escape. “Be careful.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m the security here, remember,” Hunter replied.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re no good to </span>
  <span>m</span>
  <span>e a</span>
  <span>s a pancake</span>
  <span> on the ground fifteen floors down.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Live in a shorter building.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Once he went to step back inside, Fitz had to fight his instinct to hold his hand out to steady him. Just out of politeness, though. Not because he wanted to feel Hunter’s hand in his, find out if he had calluses, how his fingers might fit between Fitz’s. He had a thing for hands, admiring them, their dexterity and grace. Jemma always called him out on it, but he couldn’t help it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have Idaho keep an eye on this as a possibility,” Hunter said. “Just keep it locked, okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye </span>
  <span>aye</span>
  <span>,” he said, saluting Hunter.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, well, that’s not necessary. Anywhere else?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The master bedroom is over here. It’s not directly accessible, but,” Fitz trailed off. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s take a look then.” When they stepped into the master bedroom, Hunter let out a slow, low whistle. “This is ridiculous. Your bedroom is bigger than my entire flat, mate.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fitz said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it is,” Hunter continued. “How large is that bed? Do you and Grant even touch when you go to bed?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Of course we do!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your three-mile-wide bed says different.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The California king had been Grant’s idea. Fitz had thought it was unnecessary. They slept just fine in a queen, and it wasn’t like Grant was going to let Fitz bring home a cat or a kid to take up room in the bed with them, and Fitz was not into threesomes so they didn’t need the room for that.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, lay down on it, then,” Fitz said. Hunter startled at that, clearly not expecting the challenge. “See if you can keep talking when you’re absurdly comfortable.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see about that. I’m known for being able to </span>
  <span>tal</span>
  <span>–” he trailed off as he laid down. “Oh. Holy shit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s shirt rode up a little, but Fitz kept his eyes off that strip of skin.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I concede,” Hunter said. “Although, I’m not sure that its comfort evens out the sheer size of it. What do you do that requires that much space?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shrugged, and replied, “that would be between me and Grant, actually.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, of course. Sorry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You needed to see the security system?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just to note the model and that you know how to arm it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took his back to the front door and went over the security system until Hunter was satisfied. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me give you my number in case of an emergency.” He also sent him the contact information for the guards who were outside, Idaho and Tripp, according to the contacts. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll let you be. I’ll be by in the morning to escort you into the office,” Hunter said.   </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that –”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Fitz. It’s necessary. See you in the morning.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you, then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Be safe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you too,” and then Hunter was gone.  </span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They settled into a routine while Fitz finished up the specs and sent them ahead to the production teams. Hunter would meet Fitz in the lobby of his apartment building, and then he’d drive Fitz to work. They’d requested a desk for Hunter to be moved into Fitz’s office, so they’d work for the morning mostly without talking. They’d sip tea that Hunter brought them, and when they were awake, they’d start talking about lunch. They’d trade off choosing lunch, usually between their favorite restaurants around town. They’d talk over lunch and Fitz realized how much he had in common with Hunter.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter was bright, and intelligent, and witty. He liked football, and wasn’t afraid to tell Fitz he thought his opinion was wrong. He knew what it was like to have a loving mother and a shitty father. Fitz learned that Hunter came out to his mum pretty early in his life, much earlier than Fitz, because of a boy in his class named Henry who had beautiful green eyes and Hunter couldn’t stop talking about them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad didn’t like that,” Hunter said, popping a chip into his mouth with a shrug. “But my dad didn’t like much, so fuck him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz snorted.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, my dad left when I was ten after deciding he was underwhelmed with his worthless child, so I get that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not worthless.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know that. That’s just, that’s what my dad used to call me, among others. It’s fine. He’s long gone, and I have gone through enough therapy to know that he doesn’t matter. He was taking out his own failures out on me because he was never as smart or as successful as he wanted to be. He was a mid-level scientist that worked for a failing corporation with a wife and a son at home when he wanted to be Howard Stark. That has nothing to do with me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s an extraordinarily healthy outlook on life,” Hunter said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Our health insurance is excellent for mental health visits,” Fitz replied. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They talked about anything. They could talk for hours, and sometimes, it was only an assistant stopping by to remind Fitz of a meeting in the conference room that kept him on schedule. Hunter was distracting, but not just because he was gorgeous. He made Fitz laugh. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>After lunch, they’d settle back in to work. Fitz had been tempted to ask what it was exactly that Hunter was working on, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, especially if it had anything to do with the death threats. He wasn’t exactly concerned with them, but Hunter had given him the opportunity to read the threats directly, and he’d turned that down. In some part of him, he was bothered. He didn’t want to know specifics, because he didn’t want his anxiety to turn sharp and barbed. The general warble of what could happen was enough, he didn’t need to know how they wanted to kill him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This is what he had Hunter around for. This is why Hunter did work at a desk in Fitz’s office. This is why Hunter picked him up in the morning, and dropped him off at home at night. Hunter was there to keep Fitz safe. He had to remind himself that when Hunter made him nearly snort his tea after a joke, or Hunter’s gaze lingered on his for a touch too long. Hunter was here to do a job.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That was part of the routine, too. They’d start to feel like friends, and then Hunter would check their surroundings, and Fitz remembered. He reminded himself. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When he dropped Fitz off at home, they’d sit in Hunter’s car finishing whatever conversation they'd been carrying, usually a discussion on football players and who should be transferred, and had usually started in the elevator on the way down from Fitz’s office. Fitz didn’t want to leave the car, comfortable with this growing friendship, but he did before Grant might get suspicious. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Fitz’s interest in Hunter felt too intense to be friendship, and he didn’t want Grant to read too much into it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tomorrow,” Fitz said as he got out of the car.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Be safe,” Hunter always said.</span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Fitz called Jemma the day he got his travel schedule during lunch while Hunter was getting the delivery from the lobby. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” she answered, and he heard Daisy’s shout in the background. “Fitz!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Simmons!” he replied cheerily.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I see no assassins have killed you,” she said, and he had to laugh. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, Hunter’s doing a good job keeping me alive. We dove behind a car to avoid a bullet yesterday.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she gasped.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but that would be a good story, wouldn’t it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a shit, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I do have some good news for you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We start inspection next week. We’re traveling to the production team in Kentucky on Monday and Tuesday, then the New York production team on Wednesday, and then London on Thursday and Friday.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re coming to London </span>
  <em>
    <span>next week</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Already?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! We have to do pre-production inspections to make sure the facilities have the proper set-up, and safety precautions in place. If anyone gets hurt making this, the public will absolutely murder us, and probably me specifically.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s what you have Hunter for, at least.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is Hot Bodyguard there?” he heard, and then Daisy appeared at Jemma’s side. “Hi Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Daisy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Hot Bodyguard there? Can I see him?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s getting our lunch from the delivery downstairs.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Boo,” she said solemnly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he goes where I go, so you’ll get to see him next week.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I will? Is he as hot as Jemma says he is? I doubt he’s as hot as Jemma says he is. That’s not, that’s not possible, right?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and depends on how hot Jemma’s been saying he is, but probably. Just don’t tell Grant I said that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, baby, I wouldn’t. I know how Grant is, and I love you enough to not put your marriage in that position for appreciating a guy’s beautiful body and face and apparently voice.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said softly, looking up to make sure Hunter wasn’t coming up. “That voice.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to make sure we meet him. Please. I need to know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and nodded, eyes looking up again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we’ll see you for Thursday and Friday,” Jemma asked. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you will see me Thursday through Sunday. I asked, and Shield is willing to pay for my hotel room through the weekend since they transferred you to England without me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Four days,” she breathed out. “We get </span>
  <em>
    <span>four days</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Two nights, and two full days. We leave Sunday night.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Her grin was enough to make everything worth it. The death threats would be worth it, at least, because he was going to get to see his best friend again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Hunter’s delivery bags rustling first, and then he appeared around the doorway with a massive grin.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got to go, Hunter’s here with lunch, but I’ll send you the schedule, okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Hunter!” Jemma called, and then Daisy echoed it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello,” he replied. Fitz watched as Daisy’s eyes widened on screen. “Do you want me to step outside, Fitz?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s just Jemma and Daisy. They’re saying goodbye now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye now!” Daisy said excitedly. “See you next week!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jemma said much more reserved than Daisy as usual, “we’ll see you next week, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up the video call, and set his phone on his desk. When he looked up at Hunter, he caught Hunter’s eyes, their gaze lingering for a second. He wanted to tell Hunter that Daisy was excited to meet him, that he was welcome wherever Fitz went, he wasn’t just a bodyguard, he was Fitz’s friend, that he was excited to travel with him. </span>
  <span>Then, h</span>
  <span>e didn’t, because he reminded himself that they weren’t friends</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>Hunter wouldn’t be here sharing lunch with Fitz without </span>
  <span>the death threats hanging over them.</span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“A week,” Grant groaned as Fitz </span>
  <span>sank into his </span>
  <span>arms</span>
  <span> at</span>
  <span> the dining table after dinner. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. We haven’t really been apart that long since we got married,” Fitz agreed, running his hands up Grant’s chest to rest on his collarbones. “But we can do a week.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to sleep without you that long,” he grumbled.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz kissed him softly, but with all things, Grant tugged him closer and slipped his tongue past Fitz’s lips, making the kiss more insistent. He never liked slow and soft, always rushing and rough. There were times that Fitz wanted to take his time, enjoy the moment spent with his husband.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We should make the most of our time together, then,” Grant said, lifting Fitz up as he </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> stood from the chair. “I’ve got a few ideas for you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz wrapped his legs around Grant, expecting to be carried into the bedroom. Instead, Grant sat him on the dining table, and immediately worked the buttons on his shirt open.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Grant confirmed. “Afraid someone’ll see?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The curtains were open on the large wall of windows across from them that overlooked the city, but they didn’t have any immediate neighbors who could see. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but you’re cleaning up after,” Fitz replied, leaning into Grant’s touch.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So romantic.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant, just fuck me already.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His shirt fell to the table behind him, and Grant left a trail of kisses down Fitz’s neck where he stopped, sucking at his collarbone until he’d left a mark. He didn’t usually like hickeys, said they weren’t teenagers anymore, but apparently this was the exception. Fitz was sure that he couldn’t make that himself without Grant pitching a fit about professionalism and maturity. No, Grant himself was the only one who got to bend and break the rules. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant,” Fitz groaned.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine,” he grunted before almost gently kissing the mark he’d left.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant’s hand dropped down to his lap and massaged him roughly through his work slacks until he was aching, the pressure and friction not enough. But Grant seemed content leaving kisses and rubbing him through his pants. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to fuck me, or,” he asked, trailing off as Grant lifted his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you’d want to take this slow for once,” Grant replied softly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What I want is for you to fuck me against this table, Grant. I’ll take slow and sweet later, but right now I just want you inside me, yeah?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant didn’t have to be told twice, shifting Fitz enough to strip his trousers and boxers off. He gave Fitz’s a few rough tugs before adjusting him on the table. Grant unbuttoned his own trousers and tugged them down enough to take his erection out, hard and ready. It never took much for Grant, though.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” he said, rough in Fitz’s ear.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He apparently had this in mind because he withdrew a travel-sized tube of lube from his pocket and opened Fitz up with his quick precision. He was efficient, as he always had been, stretching and slicking Fitz without much fanfare.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz was glad, for once, because he mostly just wanted to get it over with. He wanted the orgasm, and Grant getting sleepy afterward, so he could start packing. He needed to do laundry and pack his work clothes, make sure that he had a good mix of professional and approachable so the production teams weren’t afraid to ask him questions.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Put your hands on the table and don’t move,” Grant said, and Fitz complied. He always complied, because if he didn’t, Grant’s punishments were too rough. The last time Grant had spanked him for misbehaving, he couldn’t sit comfortably for three days.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant pushed into him hard and fast, unforgiving. Fitz wanted to grip onto Grant’s arms where he held Fitz’s hips, but he’d said he wouldn’t move so he stayed still, keeping his fingers curled over the table edge.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, you always feel so good, baby,” Grant grunted, leaning in to bite Fitz’s lower lip. “So good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned Fitz back further, hiking his legs up his waist to give himself a better angle, thrust quick and sharp. He nailed Fitz’s prostate which left him a quivering mess on their table. Fitz came, as usual, before Grant, head tipped back on a moan. Grant grabbed his chin though so he was looking at him as he finished, forcing Grant’s name out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Grant said, without releasing his chin. His fingers were firm, almost too much, against Fitz’s skin, and Fitz worried as he came down that it would leave a bruise. He didn’t want to have to shave so he could wear concealer over the bruises. He’d done that before early in their relationship when they’d started having sex and Grant was too rough, and Fitz bruised easily. Grant had figured out how not to leave bruises quickly enough, but he didn’t want a repetition of that because Grant got a little fervent. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant finished inside of Fitz, burying himself deep inside as he grunted into Fitz’s neck, bowing forward to surround him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve very good at that,” Grant breathed out, releasing Fitz’s chin finally and pressing a kiss into the spot he’d held on.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz agreed. “Can I let go of the table?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant pulled out of him, and leaned down, licking along his stomach to clean his cum off his skin. Fitz let out a quiet whimper, and could tell Grant was enjoying himself at least. Fitz let Grant lick him clean before standing and kissing him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we take this into the bedroom?” Grant asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, I need to pack, Grant.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got two days to pack.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If I pack now, you can have me all weekend with my undivided attention.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But I want you now,” Grant muttered, playfully nudging his nose into Fitz’s jaw. “Please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten minutes,” Fitz said. “Let me pack for ten minutes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just ten minutes?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just ten.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I can handle ten minutes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed Fitz, long and lingering, and Fitz almost felt bad, but he had to pack, and he guaranteed that Grant would fall asleep in those ten minutes anyway. He always, always got sleepy after an orgasm, and Fitz could always count on that to get stuff around the house done. He let Grant wear himself out, and then snuck out of bed once he was dozed off to clean the kitchen, or get work down. One quick orgasm, cuddling for ten minutes, and then he was free to do as he pleased. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten minutes, starting,” Grant said, stepping away and heading for the bedroom. Fitz pulled on his boxers and his button down just so he could walk around the apartment and feel less self-conscious. Grant walked around nude as often as possible, without shame. They were high enough up that no one could see, but still, Grant would probably walk around on a ground floor apartment. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe getting a house with Grant wouldn’t be the best idea. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That probably meant something, but Fitz was too tired to think about it, and he had to pretend to pack for ten minutes until his husband fell asleep. He had to get through this weekend, and then he had a week of traveling, a week with Hunter. That definitely meant something, but honestly, that was a problem for later. His first goal was to pack. Anything else he could handle later.</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ready?” Hunter asked as Fitz opened the door on Sunday afternoon.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, let me grab my suitcase,” Fitz said. It was the first time Fitz had seen Hunter in street clothes, in jeans and a hoodie which hugged to his frame with well-loved, ratty tennis shoes, and Fitz had to force his eyes away. “Come on in.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter stepped in and pulled the door shut behind him. Fitz left him in the entryway while he went into the bedroom where Grant was lounged, wearing just a pair of low-slung sweatpants.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter’s here,” he said, sinking onto the edge of the bed and leaning over Grant to obstruct his view of the television where he was watching an old Red Sox baseball game. “I’m going to the airport now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant sat up into Fitz’s space and kissed him, holding his face in his hands, and slipped his tongue into Fitz’s mouth. Fitz had to keep his hands on the bedspread to stay upright, but finally, he forced himself away from Grant.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to distract me, Mister Ward,” Fitz said, “I have to get on the plane.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t. I just wanted to say goodbye.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant grumbled.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Fitz said, running his hand along Grant’s jaw. “I’ve </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> go, though.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“One week,” Grant said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one week. We can do a week.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We can do a week.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stood up and adjusted his clothes again, heading for the entryway, grabbing his suitcase handle, making sure his carry-on was hanging on and wheeling it behind him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“All set?” Hunter asked as he stepped back out. Fitz tried not to flush because he felt like he’d been caught doing something naughty, even though he was married and had kissed his own husband in his own home. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, and yet...</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s head out, then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Just as they were about to step out, Grant called from the bedroom, “oh! Hold on!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz turned and Grant jobbed out with Fitz’s passport in hand, which Fitz was sure he’d packed already, remembering zippering the front of his carry on with all of the things he’d need. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Found this on the bedside table. Figured you might need it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, actually. Thank you,” Fitz said, taking it and pocketing it. “What would I do without you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t have to find out.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant drew him in for another kiss, this one soft and lingering against his lips. Fitz broke away with a blush creeping over his cheeks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Grant murmured.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too,” Fitz replied. “I’ve got to go.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you in a week,” Grant said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“One week,” Fitz promised, and followed Hunter and the door. He shut the door behind him, and caught Hunter’s eyes. “What?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your husband is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, and Fitz was not expecting that at all. He laughed so hard that he snorted a little, which Grant always thought was obnoxious. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, sorry,” Fitz said, voice high as he fought to settle. “I just didn’t expect that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect your husband to be a model.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve seen picture, and you met him before.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t shirtless then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Ahh</span>
  <span>, this is about his </span>
  <em>
    <span>body.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s literally built like Adonis or something.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, pressing the call button for the elevator.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I did hit the jackpot when it came to spouses,” Fitz said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Grant seems pretty lucky, too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Fitz scoffed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He does. You’re attractive, too, you know. You’re smart, and successful, and funny. The downside is your preference of football club, but there’s always something.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz rolled his eyes at him. They stepped onto the elevator as the doors opened together, and Hunter pressed the button for the ground floor. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Those things also apply to Grant, and as you said, he has the body of Adonis to go with it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter shrugged, and he said nonchalantly, “maybe I have a preference, then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Pasty child geniuses who have no self-preservation instincts?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed and shook his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be the only one.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a husband, someone that you married. I doubt I’m the only one.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” Fitz said, and trailed off as they reached the lobby. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not think your husband, specifically came out to kiss you goodbye, doesn’t love you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not it,” Fitz said. “He loves me, and I know that he does, it’s just – I don’t know. It’s nothing, I guess. You’re right.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter frowned but didn’t push it. Fitz didn’t know how to tell him that Grant had only kissed him to claim Fitz as his own in front of Hunter, that Grant had taken Fitz’s passport out of his carry-on to play the hero, that Grant wanted to be seen as a good guy and would buy Fitz flowers just so Fitz would tell people that he’d done so.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had a good life with Grant, he couldn’t deny that. They loved each other, and they were good together, certainly better than any of the relationships before him. They got along, and the sex was good, if a little predictable, and Fitz could see a future forward with him. He had to change the future he thought he’d have, of course, but didn’t everybody? That was adulthood. He’d change his perception of what their life should be for Grant.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I overstepped,” Hunter said as they left the lobby and Fitz hadn’t said anything else.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re fine.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can tell me to fuck off at any point. We don’t know each other well enough for me to question your marriage.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Question your marriage?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Know me well enough, but also, yeah, that too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hunter said, popping open his trunk to let Fitz put his suitcase away. Fitz, though, pause as he watched a familiar Jaguar pull into the parking lot.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” he said. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to,” Hunter said, clearly backpedaling.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, not you. Him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded towards the sleek Jaguar parking next to Grant’s car, and to the man who stepped out of it.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“John Garrett, one of Grant’s – well, I hesitate to call him a friend. He technically was a mentor to him, if mentoring was gross and had a twenty-year gap between sexual partners.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” Hunter echoed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Leopold,” Garrett said, nodding at him as he noticed them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jonathan,” Fitz replied.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ward upstairs then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a good trip, then,” Garrett said as he turned and went inside.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, that man is creepy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I hate that motherfucker.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re okay with him alone with your husband?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no,” Fitz said, shutting the trunk. “But I trust Grant, and we’ve had this discussion before. He knows that I will immediately divorce him over John Garrett unapologetically if anything happens between them.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a much better man than I am,” Hunter said. “If there’d been a John Garrett in Bobbi’s life, I would’ve absolutely lost my shit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really have the room to be jealous,” Fitz said, and they got into each side of the car.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t – I don’t mean </span>
  <span>anything by it, I guess.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter paused where he was starting the car, and looked at Fitz carefully, studying him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ll have to unpack that later,” he said. “We have to get to Kentucky.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When they were sat outside their gate, Hunter sipped at a drink he’d gotten from Starbucks on their way through. Fitz couldn’t stop glancing over at the straw between Hunter’s lips, and he almost asked Hunter to stop, if that wouldn’t give away that he had a slight obsession with his mouth. It wasn’t his fault, really. It was Hunter’s, for having a mouth like that. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Hunter finally said, shifting to face Fitz in their gate seats, setting the drink on the ground by their carry-ons. “Let’s unpack.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“In the middle of the airport? I think they’d prefer we didn’t.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> unpack, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter chuckled and shook his head. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you mean, you don’t have the room to be jealous?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean anything by it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t usually say something without meaning it, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. It’s nothing. Just – Grant seems to believe that if I’m jealous of anything, it’s an admission of guilt somehow.” One of Hunter’s eyebrows quirked up at that. “I’ve said this before, maybe not to you, but my marriage with Grant isn’t perfect, but it’s good. He and I have different, different ideas of what commitment and loyalty look like.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like the sound of that, personally,” Hunter said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not mean or, or abusive, or cruel or anything,” Fitz said quickly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that, but not having similar ideals like that is far from the basis of a good, stable marriage.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s stable enough. We’ve been married for three years.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stable enough,” Hunter said echoing him. “Right.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to critique my marriage?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just trying to figure out something.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re right. It’s not my place.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, finish what you started, Hunter. What are you trying to figure out?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve said a couple things that just point me towards worry, that’s all, and I’m trying to figure out if that’s the reality or if you’re just secretly in some fight with your husband that you haven’t told me about.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fighting with Grant.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, that’s reality, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said. “It’s not like that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want my opinion, then?” Fitz gestured him on, and Hunter took a deep breath, pausing as if gathering his thoughts. “I think you’re not as happy as you’ve convinced yourself. I think that you do love Grant but you don’t feel quite the same spark you used to. And I think you stay with him because it’s convenient and what’s expected of you, and maybe even because it’s easier than facing the reality of your marriage not being as fulfilling as it should be.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz was quiet, and he could see Hunter’s nerves creep back in. It was endearing, actually, to see someone like Hunter, with all his confidence and bravado, was still a little nervous sometimes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s your advice?” Fitz asked, shifting in his seat. “What should I do?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re barking up the wrong tree for marital advice, mate. I’ve been married, and divorced, and nearly married again to the same woman. I just </span>
  <span>know</span>
  <span> people, not marriages.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded and took a sip of his iced coffee. Hunter’s eyes obviously flitted down to his mouth, and Fitz intentionally licked his lower lip to watch Hunter’s eyes </span>
  <span>track</span>
  <span> it. That was interesting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never met someone bold enough to tell me all of that,” Fitz said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Or stupid enough, more likely. Was that too far?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I asked, and you answered. I appreciate people who tell me the truth, especially hard or awkward truths. Thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ve been told that I’m honest to a fault, so you can look forward to that. Get me drunk and find out what I think about your clothes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think about my clothes, Hunter?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter laughed, and it was a wonderful sound. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I said get me drunk first.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not on a plane ride paid for by our employer,” Fitz said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“In a random Kentucky bar, then,” Hunter replied. “Much better.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Work was good, hectic and insanely exhausting but good. </span>
  <span>He was on his feet for hours at a time, inspecting and reviewing the set up the production teams had managed to put together in such a short time. It was impressive, actually, what they’d managed to do. He had some modifications in mind, and </span>
  <span>wrote them in his notes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s he?” Dana, the production manager, asked, gesturing with her head to Hunter who was nearby at all times. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Ahh</span>
  <span>, Lance Hunter,” Fitz said, and Hunter’s eyes slid over to him. “</span>
  <span>He’s my personal security.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone looking to hurt you, Doctor Fitz?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Fitz is fine, and unfortunately, not everyone sees the benefit of the work we’re doing, as it’s always been with scientific advancements.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I can’t tell you </span>
  <span>how glad I am to see you going forward with this project. Something like this would have made my Mama’s life easier when she was alive.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>That’s the goal,” Fitz said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Dana nodded and turned the corner to continue the inspection. Hunter stepped up as Fitz trailed </span>
  <span>behind.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fitz?” he asked.</span>
  <span> “Should I be calling you Doctor Fitz instead?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I got</span>
  <span> my doctorate when I was eighteen.</span>
  <span> And no, Fitz is just fine, thank you.</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Forgot that</span>
  <span> that</span>
  <span> technically </span>
  <span>makes you a doctor.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It does. I don’t normally go by doctor, even though that’s technically my title. </span>
  <span>It feels weird, so I just go by Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Nobody else with a doctorate feels that way. </span>
  <span>Bobbi </span>
  <span>will correct people that it’s Doctor Morse, not Mrs.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jemma does the same thing,” Fitz said. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I suppose that’s a respect thing, then. </span>
  <span>I’m a white man in engineering, so I don’t often get challenged, but I know Jemma had some </span>
  <span>trouble with a superior who didn’t take her ideas seriously. It’s why she jumped at the opportunity to run the lab in London, so she could be the kind of boss who listens to her employee’s ideas.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bob loves her,” </span>
  <span>Hunter said with a little laugh. “She said she’s never been more productive since working under Simmons.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Jemma is magic.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, why don’t you go by Doctor?</span>
  <span> I would. It’s so official, and I’d definitely </span>
  <span>enjoy being called that in bed, if you know what I mean.</span>
  <span>”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Yeah, I know what you mean,” Fitz said, rolling his eyes.</span>
  <span> “It’s just not my style, I guess. It’s </span>
  <span>never been that important.</span>
  <span> I </span>
  <span>was an engineer long before I earned my doctorate, and I’d continue to be one </span>
  <span>i</span>
  <span>f they revoked it. As long as I have these hands, I’m good. I don’t need the title that goes with it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <span>can’t argue with that logic.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to hear you try, though,” Fitz teased, and Hunter </span>
  <span>rolled his eyes fondly at him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Better catch up, Doctor Fitz,” Hunter said, nodding towards Dana who was waiting at the next station. The way </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor Fitz</span>
  </em>
  <span> rolled off Hunter’s tongue was positively indecent, and Fitz glared at him a little for it. He only grinned in return, undeterred as usual.</span>
  
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s get some dinner and a drink,” Hunter said, </span>
  <span>nudging</span>
  <span> Fitz as they left the production site </span>
  <span>to head for the hotel Shield had put them up in. The sun was starting to set already, and Fitz was starving. “I think I saw a burger and bar side by side downtown that looked not terrible.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, be still, my heart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> is my favorite.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want a cheeseburger and a whiskey. It can’t be that bad.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had a lot of bad whiskey</span>
  <span> in my life</span>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, have you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that I grew up in a </span>
  <span>lab storage closet</span>
  <span> and </span>
  <span>then s</span>
  <span>tepped out to build shit?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed</span>
  <span>, moving his hand up to run it through his hair, but paused as he heard Grant’s voice berating him for it and took his hand away.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get some not terrible food, then,” Fitz said. “Lead the way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The burger joint was called Casey’s, and was not just next to the bar but was the bar itself. Hunter crowed when he realized he could get his burger and whiskey simultaneously. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that is what I call southern hospitality,” he said, dropping into a southern accent almost too good, that sent a thrill through Fitz. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that,” Fitz laughed it off though. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You don’t like my American accent?” </span>
  <span>Hunter teased. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz liked it, a little bit too much and that was the problem. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s terrible,” he said instead. “Do you need </span>
  <span>fake </span>
  <span>accents</span>
  <span> often</span>
  <span> as a bodyguard?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Not usually. That was more from the SAS.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz made a noise in the back of his throat like acknowledgement. He often forgot that Hunter had been a soldier before he’d gotten hired at Shield Labs, and that he’d done things that Fitz would never understand, seen things that would have destroyed Fitz. He joked around, and played it off, but Fitz could see there was still something of a soldier in Hunter. He could see it around his edges, the way he kept his eyes alert even when they were relaxing in Fitz's office during lunch, or the way he held himself between the building and the parking lot.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter led them into a booth at the back of the restaurant, and he positioned himself so he could watch all directions. Somehow, he always managed to make Fitz feel like the center of his attention, even as he checked exits. When he was with Hunter, he never had to question if he was listening, or if he cared, because he always asked questions relevant to their conversation, and responded without an attitude. It was more than Fitz could say for Grant, actually, now that he was thinking about it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t an avenue he wanted to go down, actually. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A waitress appeared at the edge of the table with a welcoming smile, her name tag reading DEANNA, setting two menus down for them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” she said, “my name is Deanna, I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you started with something to drink?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I’ll have an old fashioned, please,” Hunter said as politely as Fitz had ever heard him. He’d never been rude, of course, but informal with employees and Fitz himself. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you?” Deanna asked, turning to Fitz.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Scotch and soda, please, and a water,” Fitz said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” she said. “I’ll put those in and be back in a few to get your order.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Fitz said. She smiled before stepping away. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a Scotch and soda man, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Occasionally. I prefer a beer after a long day, but I definitely won’t say no to a Scotch now and again.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” Hunter said. Fitz took up his menu and looked it over, as if he wasn’t going to get a burger and fries. He’d tried new things, but Grant always said he chose wrong every time. That’s what Grant would have ordered for him. “What has a fried egg on it? I want something with a fried egg.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, and looked up at him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fried egg on a burger?” he asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Have you ever tried it? It’s so good, mate. You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>got </span>
  </em>
  <span>to try it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” he said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s up to you, but I highly recommend it. Get whatever you want tonight. Dinner is on me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“On the company card?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just on me,” Hunter said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz frowned but didn’t argue. He looked through the menu thoughtfully, and found something that sounded interesting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Humpty Dumpty has a fried egg on it,” Fitz finally said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Humpty Dumpty,” Fitz replied, smiling at Hunter. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not real.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz quirked his eyebrows at Hunter playfully, and Hunter laughed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s it actually called?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Hangover.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an asshole.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, true. But you seem to enjoy being around me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, yeah. You’re, like, stupidly fun to be around.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz grinned and set his menu down. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you getting?” Hunter asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, a burger, actually.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, you’re sassy today. What are you getting?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Poutine burger, and a side of sweet potato fries.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that have cheese curds on it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It does.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“God, that also sounds good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you a bite of mine if I can get a bite of yours.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” Hunter said, looking over him, “absolutely. I will take you up on that. Want to split fries, too?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” Fitz echoed, “fuck it. Yes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. This is the beginning of a beautiful, lasting partnership, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Hey, you never asked what I think of your clothes?” Hunter asked on the way to the hotel after dinner and a few drinks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I suspect it’s going to end in a joke about them looking better on your floor?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, Leopold Fitz, I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You are a married man, and I would never proposition a married man. I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they definitely would. But you think so little of me!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think of my clothes, then, Hunter?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter paused, seemed to think for a moment, and said, “well, fuck, they would look better on my floor. That’s my fault.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a lightweight?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like you’re a lightweight.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it the donut bun that’s got you so fucked up?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t even read that bit on the menu! I just focused on the fried egg; I didn’t think to look at the bun. How could it come on a glazed donut bun, Fitz?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“America.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>America</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The hotel was comfortable, and for once, Fitz could stretch out in bed without Grant complaining about the bed being too tight. He slept well, and when he woke up the next morning, he stretched and felt good. Normally, he’d be stiff, pressed awkwardly into Grant like two puzzle pieces gracelessly shoved together. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He did love Grant, but sometimes, they didn’t fit together like they should. Jemma said it was okay to have differences, to not always agree. She and Daisy didn’t always see eye to eye, at least.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the side table where he had left it. He had a text message from Grant, sent when he went to bed, asking him to call if he was still awake. Fitz had heard the notification noise as he was falling asleep, but had decided to just leave it for morning.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Monday April 15</span>
  </b>
  <b>
    <span>th</span>
  </b>
  <b>
    <span>, 7:15am</span>
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </b>
  <span>: Sorry I fell asleep early, I’ll be on the plane after you get out of work but I’ll call you when we land</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </b>
  <span>: I love you</span>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Good morning, sunshine</span>
  <b>
    
  </b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Good morning! Two days until I see you again!</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Two days!</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>How’s traveling for work? How’s Hunter?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Hunter is good, he took me out for dinner and </span>
  <span>drinks</span>
  <span> last night to distract me, I’m pretty sure</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>I actually really like him</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Like him like him? 😉</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>No</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Maybe</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>He is quite dreamy</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>He’s also funny and nice and unafraid of asking hard questions</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons</span>
  </b>
  <span>: I can’t wait to meet him</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons</span>
  </b>
  <span>: In two days!</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Two days! It’s been so long, I’ve almost forgotten what you face looks like</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He got a quick selfie of Simmons in the lab, wearing goggles and a lab coat. There was a blonde woman dressed similarly behind her, grinning at the camera. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons</span>
  </b>
  <span>: Bonus Bobbi, she says hello</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz replied a sleep selfie of his own, pillow creases on his cheeks and hair a mess.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>No bonus, just me</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Did you sleep well?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>I did, extremely so</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Simmons: </span>
  </b>
  <span>My break is over, but I’ll see you it TWO! DAYS!</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>
    <span>Fitz: </span>
  </b>
  <span>Can’t wait</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Day two in Kentucky was much the same as day one, with more meetings. Hunter stayed outside the conference rooms unless he determined it was more secure for Fitz. They talked about security and safety, and Fitz corrected some of the procedures they’d drawn up provisionally. It was good work, and Fitz liked being able to talk about building and engineering with people who understood what he was talking about. Even more than that, it was nice to be with people who </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>You guys are nerds,” Hunter said quietly in Fitz’s ear as they left one of the meetings towards the end of the day. “Safety nerds.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You want safety nerds building stuff, creating protocols. Otherwise, the world might explode when you start your car or you turn on your lights.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t mean you’re not a nerd.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the way Hunter’s breath felt against his skin or the way his voice rumbled a little in his ear. He tried not to think about what that voice might sound like after Fitz ran his hands – no. He didn’t need to be thinking about that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz agreed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I like nerds,” Hunter said, voice still low, private between the two of them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You work for the wrong company if you didn’t.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s true.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz was led to an office to complete his final paperwork for the visit, and Hunter sank into a seat across from him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what are your thoughts? They do good?” Hunter asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“They did. I only had a few adjustments but the team did a good job getting the site ready with just a week. It’s impressive what they’d accomplished, and I can’t wait to get into production. It’s a fascinating process, how the </span>
  <span>gravitonium</span>
  <span> has to be handled a very specific until it’s gone through the process and becomes, well, not inert, but dampened. It’s – I suppose you don’t care about that bit.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Hunter asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I do,” Fitz answered honestly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then tell me about it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? It’s the nerdiest thing I talk about.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s eyes seemed to sparkle and Fitz blushed as he answered, “yeah. I like nerds talking about nerd things they’re passionate about. Tell me about it.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>New York’s production site was affectionately nicknamed the Lighthouse due to it sitting close to Lake Ontario and having a lighthouse-like tower that the locals could see throughout town. It was much smaller than the Kentucky base of operations so they’d only be there one day and fly out that night to land in London. The team was just as enthusiastic, though, which delighted Fitz. It was all he could talk about, which probably was driving Hunter nuts. There were very few people in the world who had spent this much time with Fitz, his best friend, his mum, and his husband. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can tell me to shut up,” Fitz said at dinner before their flight. They were already at the airport in Rochester, sitting at Gusto with their meal before their plane boarded in an hour.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I do that?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been talking about work for three hours,” Fitz said, checking his watch.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s, that’s a long time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re not done talking. Why would I tell you to stop? That’s rude.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sat back, and twirled his fork in his pasta slowly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask another out of line question?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you can. You don’t have to ask,” Fitz said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to continue to ask because I value our friendship.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You consider me to be a friend?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Of course. Don’t you?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Hunter said. “Does Grant tell you to stop talking?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not in so many words. But he’ll stop listening, even if he thinks I don’t notice, or he’ll change the subject when he gets bored. Which, I mean, I understand that –”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hunter said and he frowned at Fitz.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s unacceptable. And this is definitely out of line, but your partner should care about things that you’re interested in, even if they don’t understand them. I don’t understand half of what Bobbi says, but I still listen when she talks because I care about her more than I care about pretty much anything else, and I want to be supportive.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz fidgeted in his seat because he hadn’t really considered that a problem before. He hadn’t thought, actually, that he wanted that, or that he could have that. That seemed like a fantasy, bordering on unrealistic.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s – I don’t expect that from him. He’s not –”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you tolerate that from a friend?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said sullenly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Your spouse should be your best friend, and your biggest fan.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz twirled his fork without looking at Hunter. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to make you feel bad about your life or hurt you,” Hunter said, reaching over the table and stilling Fitz’s hand. “I just want you to – I don’t know what I want. You don’t have to censor yourself for me. Tell me everything about </span>
  <span>gravitonium</span>
  <span> and how to use it safely and whatever else. I want to hear all about your nerd boner topics.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I’m sure. I wouldn’t bring all of this up just to say no, stop talking.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I, I just haven’t had that for a while. With Simmons being in England, she was my one real outlet, and – I don’t want you to get sick of me.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Hunter assured him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t know that for the future. I wear on people easily. There’s a reason Jemma is my only friend, and she lives in London now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said and his voice was incredibly soft in the general clamor of the airport restaurant, “you’re not a bother to me. I won’t get sick of you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz almost asked if he was sure, but his eyes were so sincere. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he replied, and he’d do anything to see that amazing smile Hunter gave him again. “Yeah, okay.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded, and then gestured him on, saying, “you were telling me about the fluctuations in the fields surrounding the </span>
  <span>gravitonium</span>
  <span> being the core problem?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stared at Hunter for a moment, and rewound the conversation. He couldn’t understand how Hunter had retained that, but it felt nice. It was warm. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was,” and he went back into it, and kept his eyes on Hunter as he spoke. Hunter was an active participant, asking questions, leaning into the conversation, keeping Fitz’s eyes without flinching. And Fitz felt, unbelievably, at home. </span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter fell asleep on the plane first, and Fitz couldn’t stop himself from marveling at his sleepy face. He was entirely too beautiful, and Fitz wasn’t strong enough not to look. He spent a lot of his day looking, honestly, but he’d never get over Hunter’s face. He let himself drift off to sleep next to him, thinking of cuddling up next to Hunter, and no one had to know. </span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>London was amazing. Fitz had missed it, had missed England, had missed this side of the ocean. But it wasn’t the city he loved and missed. It wasn’t the city that he saw crossing the Shield Labs entryway in her pristine blouse and slacks, paired with her comfy lab shoes – she must be actually in the lab testing that day instead of in meetings or else she’d be wearing heels. </span>
  <span>It wasn’t the city that spotted him and squealed, heading straight for him while leaving her girlfriend, and it wasn’t the city that jumped into his arms, wrapping him in her arms for the best hug he’d ever had. She smiled just how he remembered, and fit against him just the same as well.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Fitz,” she sighed, and he felt it echo inside him, healing all the rough edges that had formed in his chest without her at his side. Without Jemma, he had a tendency to shelter, to revert to a grumpy scientist who only had work to keep him company. “I missed you so much.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you, too,” he murmured. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, share the Fitz,” another voice budged in, and Jemma stepped away to be replaced with Daisy in his arms. “Missed you, Bubba.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you, Gump,” he replied.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He let her go and turned back towards Hunter who stood off to the side politely.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy, Jemma, this is Hunter, my bodyguard. Hunter, Daisy and Jemma.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s good to finally meet you, Hunter. Between Fitz and Bobbi, it feels like I already know you,” Jemma said </span>
  <span>chipperly</span>
  <span>, holding her hand out to shake, which Daisy and Fitz exchanged looks behind Jemma’s back. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I actually could say the same thing,” Hunter said</span>
  <span> as he took her hand</span>
  <span>, and Fitz </span>
  <span>almost rolled his eyes at how the easy charm rolled off of Hunter. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And thank you,” Jemma said seriously, “for looking after Fitz. I know it’s your job, but it’s – he’s really important, and – thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. It’s my pleasure.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took in a quiet, sharp breath, which thankfully only Daisy seemed to hear. She nudged him and leaned in to say under her breath, “okay, that’s a hot boy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot boy,” he echoed. “Don’t tell Grant, please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” Daisy said. “Are you two okay, though? That’s the second time you’ve said that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not a fan of me traveling, or needing a bodyguard.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But if the bodyguard looks like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Daisy asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Especially because the bodyguard looks like that.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz, your meeting,” Hunter said, checking his watch. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Right! We’ve got to go, but I’ll text you. Dinner after work?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make reservations. Hunter, you’re coming, too, right?” Jemma asked, and there was something about Jemma that made her impossible to turn down.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to impose.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t be,” she said, “right, Fitz?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They both turned to look at Fitz at the same time, and Fitz met Hunter’s eyes seriously.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to join us,” Fitz said, “anytime you want.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s eyes almost sparkled in the early morning sunshine streaming through the big windows lining the lobby walls. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay,” Hunter agreed. “I’d be happy to come.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful. I’ll send you the information later, then, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They had to hurry in order to make his meeting but he felt like he was walking on air throughout the rest of the day. Between Jemma and Hunter, it felt like the life he sometimes let himself dream about, his friends getting along, joking around. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had a meeting with the English-arm of the company’s board of directors to discuss the differing safety guidelines in Europe as opposed to the United States and how that might affect production. It was an incredibly stuffy room with the executives all in suits buttoned up to the to. He felt underdressed in his slacks and button-up, wishing he’d dressed up a little or combed his hair.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re sure, Doctor Fitz, that this means of production is safe?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Fitz answered. “I’ve been working with the heads of production in the Kentucky and New York branches, as well as being trained in safety precautions during mass production. I can guarantee that, when implemented correctly, this is the most secure method of production.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see the Americans didn’t ruin such a good mind,” one of the directors, Mason said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir,” Fitz said without making a comment about how Shield had American scientists here in London. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“When does production start?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Next Thursday, sir. We’re going over the protocol and adjusting anything that needs adjusting today and tomorrow, they’re receiving the supplies next week, and then they start on Thursday.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s extremely impressive,” Mason said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Each unit still has to go through our quality assurance checks before it can be deemed safe for public use, but we’re hoping to have them on the market by Christmas.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The board nodded somehow simultaneously, and Fitz very nearly snickered to himself about that. He’d have made a face at Hunter if Hunter wasn’t standing outside the boardroom while Fitz had this meeting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The production is approved, Doctor Fitz. We look forward to seeing what this will do for Shield as well as for yourself. You’re going to make quite a name for yourself, something rivaling Stark himself,” Bell said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Bell said. “You’re a lot like your father.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stalled </span>
  <span>midbreath</span>
  <span>. What did William Bell know about Alistair Fitz? The last time he’d heard, his father had dropped into the bottom of a bottle. He certainly hadn’t made any kind of name for himself anywhere, except maybe with the local police for drunken </span>
  <span>disorderlies</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You look a lot like Holden, too. Doesn’t he?” Bell said to the director beside him, Emerson. “It’s a damn shame the competition snatched him up. He was a riot at the holiday party every year, and he’s a damn good scientist.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, sir. I think you’ve confused me with someone else,” Fitz said. “My father’s name is Alistair.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Emerson nudged Bell, and Fitz could see the face Emerson made at him, something you’d give a close friend to shut the fuck up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I must be mistaken, then. I’m sorry,” Bell said. “Must be someone else. Either way, it’s good to have you on the project.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Fitz had an hour before they were going to take lunch and then had to get to the production site, and he knew just where he wanted to go.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be working?” Hunter asked, following Fitz to the elevators. “Where are we going?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something I have to ask.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are we asking?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy,” Hunter repeated. “And what would she be doing?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy’s a hacker. She can get into anything. And beyond that, she’s also a computer security analyst here for Shield, so,” Fitz said, pressing the basement floor button where the technology services offices were in every Shield facility. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you looking for?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Some guy named Holden.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Planning on leaving your husband?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“God, no. No. Bell thinks he’s my dad.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? I thought you knew your father.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Fitz said, “that’s why I’m so confused. I have to know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You think your mum’s been lying?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I think.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He was quiet, trying to think back to anything that might indicate Alistair not being his father, but for </span>
  <span>most of his life, he hadn’t had any type of father figure. Alistair had left when he was ten and he started </span>
  <span>uni</span>
  <span> not long after. His mum had never remarried, not had she ever really dated. </span>
  <span>There were dates, and she mentioned a few guys since, but she seemed content with her </span>
  <span>life as is. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want someone else to be your dad?” Hunter asked. Fitz had never told Hunter how terrible of a father </span>
  <span>Alistair was, but maybe he didn’t have to. Hunter knew the same way Fitz knew Hunter’s father had been </span>
  <span>an asshole, something intrinsic. Fitz had had a feeling about Grant’s family history before he’d learned just how bad it had been. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>Some days,” Fitz said. When the doors opened, he paused. “After what my dad </span>
  <span>did to me when I was a kid</span>
  <span>, I don’t want to </span>
  <span>share those genes. I don’t want to be like him in any way.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how that is,” he said gently. “I’ve never seen anything from you that says you’d be anything like your father, if that helps.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know my father,” Fitz said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but I do know you, and you’re calm, and kind, and understanding, and sweet. When people fuck up, you educate them and explain what they did wrong more than berate them. You’re a good boss, and a great worker, and one hell of an engineer. You’re not, you’re not like that man, and you’d never do what he did.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate that,” Fitz said, and stepped off. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. You can’t be down here,” someone, a young Irish woman at one of the open office style desks nearby said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Leo Fitz, I’m looking for Daisy Johnson. She’s expecting me. Can you point me towards her workspace?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy Johnson? She’s in the corner office over there,” an older English man said, pointing to the corner. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Fitz said, and led Hunter over to the office. He tapped on the door carefully, and peeked in. “Gump, you in here?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Bubba?” she said, lifting her head from the screen. “What are you doing here? </span>
  <span>Didn’t you have a meeting with the board of directors?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, but I’m done with that. I have a little bit of time and need you to look something up for me. Please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Pull up a chair. What are we looking for?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He sank into a chair at her side and said, “he’s a former Shield employee, named Holden. He’s probably in his fifties.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy quirked her eyebrow at Fitz but started typing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And why are we looking? Are we searching for a new husband?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You think if I left Grant, it’d be for a fifty-year-old man I’ve never met?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shr</span>
  <span> shrugged.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on the fifty-year-old man, I guess,” she said, and pulled up a personnel file. “Holden Radcliffe? Scottish, fifty-eight years old. He was a lead researcher on parasitic organisms for the agrochemical lab. Huh. He’s from Glasgow, too, apparently.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said, and Daisy pulled up is photo.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she hissed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I see it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter wandered over and paused at Fitz’s side, hand coming to his shoulder as he leaned in. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your dad, huh?” Hunter said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, but what about Shit Pile Alistair?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a chance that he’s not my father, apparently,” Fitz said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Well, any fuck you to Alistair Fitz is a fuck you I support. What are you going to do?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to talk to my mum first, and then, I don’t know. It’s not like I need a da anymore. I never really needed one to begin with, not with a mum like mine. It'd just be nice to know that I wasn’t born from, well, you know the story.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if an absent father is any better,” he continued, “but you know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever decide Alistair deserves to get a kick to the nuts, I know how to find him and you know where to find me. I’ve got steel toe boots from my goth phase.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, and leaned back in his chair, inadvertently into Hunter’s space. He didn’t seem to mind though, leaning in to look at the screen again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Hunter said quietly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Fitz asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Hunter replied, but there was definitely something in his tone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got his eyes, that’s all.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter leaned in even further and then looked at Fitz, looking him in the eyes. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I do. It’s the same shade blue,” Hunter said, and studied him for a moment longer. “Same shape, too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz could feel Daisy’s eyes on him, watching how close and familiar they were with each other. When he glanced over at her, she waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. He mouthed at her to stop, but she made a face complete with dancing eyebrows. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” he hissed. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned in and pressed her lips close to Fitz’s ear to whisper, “he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Fitz chuckled and pushed Daisy away. “You’re obnoxious.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but who found the identity of your daddy?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like the way you said that. Don’t say it like that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter, Fitz needs a daddy,” Daisy said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Daisy Lorraine!” Fitz snapped.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I could be your daddy,” Hunter teased.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, okay, I’m going to leave now. You stay here while I throw myself off the roof.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He started to stand and Hunter reached out, grabbing Fitz’s elbow. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll stop. Promise.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sat back down and Hunter’s thumb stroked over Fitz’s skin gently, slow and soothing. He let out his breath, and settled between them again. </span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“When are you going to call her and ask?” Jemma asked at dinner that night. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if that’s the kind of conversation I want to have with my mum over the phone,” he said. “If I accuse her of having an affair and an illicit love child, that’s kind of something I want to see her face for.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what, that’s a fair point,” Daisy said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know what I would say to her. How do I start that conversation? Hey Mum, do you know a Holden Radcliffe? I think you might have cheated on Da with him and popped out a little Leopold bastard nine months later?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” Hunter said. “Maybe leave out the part where you call yourself a bastard. That doesn’t tend to go over well with mums.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, and stirred his water with his straw. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to wait to go to Scotland, I think. Do you want to go to Scotland, Hunter?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve actually never been,” he said, “but sure.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never been to Scotland?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Never had the opportunity, but I’d go.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Fitz said with a smile, and Hunter smiled back. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had a flash of taking Hunter home to his mum, sitting down at the table with a cup of tea, Hunter smiling that charming smile at her. She would probably love him, with his easy wit and gentle sweetness. He might sweep her away with his charm. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant hadn’t made quite the same impression. He’d been quiet and sullen, a little stand-offish because he was nervous. Fitz had told him to relax, that his mum wasn’t going to hate him, and that he just had to be himself. Except Grant hadn’t listened, and hadn’t done that, and had pissed Fitz’s mum off enough that she dragged Fitz out of the room to berate him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You cannot be serious, Leo,” she had said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum, he’s not normally like this. He’s nervous.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He looks like a serial killer. He hasn’t smiled once.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You scare him a little.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Me! That’s rich! I’m a third that man’s size!” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but it’s not, he’s not used to this. He’s not a family person. You have to give him a little time. He’ll warm up.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he’s good for you,” she said definitively. “I don’t think he treats you the way he should. He’s not good enough for my Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum, no one would be good enough for me if we went by your standards.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Jemma would be!”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not dating Jemma. Jemma has a girlfriend.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but she would be good enough for you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had taken her hands and sighed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum, I love him, and I know you will, too. You have to give him a little bit of time. Okay?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but one wrong move, and he’s done.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t decide that,” Fitz had said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch me, baby.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Abigail Fitz would adore Hunter, though. She would be enchanted with him, give him her signature Head Nod™, and might even go as far as giving Hunter her recipe for her beef stew, a closely guarded secret. The secret was Scotch in the broth, but no one was allowed to know that unless Abigail Fitz told them explicitly. The point was she’d willingly give it to Hunter, just from his smile alone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“We can see if we can sweet talk the managers into giving us a couple days extra here in England next time so we can head up there,” Hunter said, and Fitz really liked the way he said </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The weekend went by so fast, it barely felt like they had any time together. Jemma wouldn’t let Hunter step away, which Fitz was incredibly grateful for. Closer was better. Closer was incredibly, wonderfully better.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz said to Jemma on their last morning together, Daisy and Hunter getting coffee from the counter while Jemma and Fitz found seats in the busy coffee shop, “he’s good, right? I’m not insane. He’s funny, and sweet, and interesting.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He is,” Jemma said. “He really is.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect to like him this much,” Fitz said softly, “and I feel bad.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to feel bad, Fitz. It’s normal to like people you meet.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Jem. Like, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. Like, I want to kiss him, and take him home to Mum, and – I shouldn’t feel like this.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled sadly at him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can be attracted to other people other than Grant, too. You’re allowed to like Hunter, and enjoy spending time with him, especially because you don’t have any other choice. You have to spend time with him.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing, though. I would want to be around him regardless. I like him that much that I, I don’t know what to do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like him more than you love Grant?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You should probably figure that out.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz scratched at the back of his neck.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be alright,” she said. “You have to decide what you want, and luckily, you’re going home so you can compare and think about what that is. If you decide the answer is yes, you do like Hunter more, and maybe love him, then we’ll figure that out. But I really think you should take some time to decide. Maybe talk to Grant about it.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to tell my husband that I potentially have feelings for another man?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not explicitly, but there’s probably a reason you’re considering Hunter over Grant in the first place. Figure out what that is, and see if you can work past it. If you can’t, then you know what you should do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But a discussion with Grant is a good place to start before you ruin everything you’ve been building,” Jemma said gently. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you fighting for my marriage?” he asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I love you,” she said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t like Grant.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to like Grant. This isn’t about Grant. This is about you, and your marriage. I support you, and I would support your marriage to anyone as long as they weren’t treating you terribly.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your best friend, Fitz. I’m always on your side. If being married to Grant is what you want and what makes you happy, then I support that. If you want to leave Grant and kiss Hunter or take him home to your mum, then I support that, too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Daisy said, carrying two cups back to the table with Hunter just behind her. “Here we go. One London fog for you, Jemma.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“And a milk and honey iced coffee for you,” Hunter said, setting Fitz’s cup down in front of him with a wink. “Which honestly disgusting. Isn’t the honey just clumped in the bottom?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be, but I like it like that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>gross.”</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Jemma sighed into Fitz’s shoulder as they hugged. He and Hunter would be heading for the airport soon, and Fitz didn’t want to leave. He loved it in London, at Jemma’s side with Daisy and Hunter, being so close to his mum. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither. I’ll be back soon,” Fitz said. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I can’t wait.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>When he pulled away, her eyes were damp and so were his, even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t seem fair,” he said, reaching up and swiping a wayward tear from her cheek.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it doesn’t. But this is what we decided, right? I’d go to London to head up my department, and you’d stay doing amazing things just like you’re doing. This is the plan. We’ll find our way back to one another. We always will.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed his cheek, and they reluctantly stepped away from each other. Each departure was agonizing. They’d been at each other’s sides for so long, it was unimaginable that they were apart, and yet here they were. Here they were, Fitz heading back to the states, and Jemma staying here, Fitzsimmons split down the middle again.  </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jemma said. “You’ll figure out what to do.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and they both stepped away again.</span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Hunter asked as they made their way to Heathrow Airport. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s not goodbye forever. I’ll see her again soon.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled at Fitz and at least there was that in the midst of everything else. </span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Just a quick detour before I take you home. My friend Mack has something of mine I need to grab before he heads to work for the night.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz wasn’t in any hurry to get home right away. He hadn’t called Grant in a couple days, too caught up in spending time with Jemma and Daisy, and with Hunter being there. He wasn’t sure how to handle that, how to separate himself from those feelings. He wanted to run his fingers along Hunter’s skin, through his hair, against the curve of his lips. Mostly, his lips. Hunter had been set on killing Fitz, or at least giving him the most awkward boner ever, sucking frosting from his fingers, chasing a straw around with his tongue, running his thumb over his bottom lip. He was a menace, and Fitz never wanted him to stop.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled up out front of a house on the way back from the airport, and Hunter nodded Fitz out of the car. He didn’t leave Fitz alone for long, and apparently, this was one of those times. Fitz followed him into the modest two-story house, Hunter knocking but not waiting for a response. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter?” a voice asked, and a tall, black man with a shaved head and arms big enough to crush Fitz stepped out from a door in one corner of the entryway, probably attached to the garage, wiping his hands on a rag. “Hey, was wondering when you were getting in. And who’s this?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo Fitz, the Shield Labs engineer,” Hunter said, even though he was clearly not look at Mack as he spoke. “Fitz, this is Mack, an old friend of mine.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s in the kitchen with Elena,” Mack said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he said and headed off deeper into the house, leaving Fitz alone with Mack.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You just got back from England, right?” Mack asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we went to a London production side, and hung out with my friends, Jemma and Daisy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fitz!” Mack said excitedly. “Daisy and Bobbi have told me about you. Hey, if you don’t mind, can you take a look at this engine with me? I know you’re an engineer but I just cannot figure out what’s catching.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz grinned, glad to have something in common with him, something to focus on, and said, “absolutely.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He followed Mack into the garage and leaned into the car, looking over the engine Mack was working on. It was easy to fall into a conversation with him, about the work, what could be going wrong with the engine. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You stole my engineer,” Hunter said, returning to the garage with an armful of cat with big yellow eyes. “I’m taking my cat and my engineer now.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that your cat?” Fitz asked.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, this is Fig. Fig, this is Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fig?” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Short for </span>
  <span>Figgy</span>
  <span> Pudding,” Hunter explained. “I found her on the street the day before Christmas, and she just looks like a </span>
  <span>figgy</span>
  <span> pudding.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of </span>
  <span>figgy</span>
  <span> pudding are you having that it looks like a cat?” Fitz asked, and Hunter laughed. “It’s right here, by the way, Mack.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Mack leaned in and let out a low whistle.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Never would have caught that in a million years. Thanks, man.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He had grease on his hands, and he almost wiped it away on his jeans but Grant’s voice in his head telling him not to get grease everywhere stalled him. Mack held out a clean rag to Fitz, and he took it, cleaning his hands until they were mostly clean. There was a stubborn smudge along his left pointer finger that he couldn’t get off, but he gave up, handing the rag back.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If you ever get sick of changing the world, or whatever Shield Labs is doing these days, I’ve got room at my garage for someone like you,” Mack said kindly, and Fitz smiled. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know. I will keep that in mind.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks again, Mack. I’ll let you know when I’ll need to drop her off again. I think we leave next Monday again.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s always welcome here,” Mack said, using a clean knuckle to rub under Fig’s chin. She leaned into the pet, and Fitz could hear a small purr. “Helps keep our baby fever in check, honestly.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll send you the schedule.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz and Hunter, with a content armful of cat, left and headed to the car.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” Hunter asked, lingering by Fitz’s door as he got in.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said, and then found himself with Fig deposited into his lap. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello,” Fitz said sweetly to her and let Fig sniff his hand before carefully scratching behind her ear. She leaned into his hand and he made a noise of delight in the back of his throat. “You’re a very pretty girl, aren’t you, Fig?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter circled the car and climbed into the driver’s side, then watched him for a moment with Fig before saying, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>huh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, didn’t expect that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“For you to be a cat person,” Hunter said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always wanted a cat,” Fitz replied, “but my mum was allergic, and then I was in </span>
  <span>uni</span>
  <span>, and then I was with Grant.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Does Grant dislike cats?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s shut me down whenever I mention cats at the local shelter who need a home. So, probably not.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t let you get a cat?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, something like that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s stupid. You can visit Fig whenever you want.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz was enamored with Fig, how she settled down into his lap and leaned into his gentle scratches. She was incredibly soft, and he could see how well Hunter took care of her. He considered for a moment Hunter holding him and taking care of him in the same way, and blushed at the silly thought. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate that,” Fitz said softly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She likes you,” Hunter said, “a lot. She’s friendly but she doesn’t purr for everyone.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She was passively purring as Fitz lightly ran his fingers from her head to the base of her tail. Her eyes blinked slow and sleepy.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s very cute,” Fitz said. “You said you found her?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I did; she was this scrawny, nearly hairless baby trying to eat garbage off the street, and when I knelt down, she came right to me. I think she’d been a pet for a while so she was used to people, but she’d been dumped in a park. I had her checked for a microchip, and got her all checked out, but I got to take her home with me. She needed a million baths, and a decent diet, but she’s grown into this little rascal.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He reached over and scratched behind her ear, to which she let out a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>mrrp</span>
  </em>
  <span> noise and melted Fitz’s heart.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I may just bring a cat home and deal with the consequences,” Fitz said, marveling at how cute she was, curled up like a loaf in his lap. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What consequences would that be?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant tends to not talk to me when he’s upset, or when he does, it’s tense and – maybe I shouldn’t, I guess.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask an out of line question?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you afraid of him?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said. “Not, not like I think he’d ever hurt me, but I don’t like the silence. He will not even listen to me when he’s upset, like that will fix the problem.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s shitty behavior.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he replied softly, focusing on Fig instead.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you can come see Fig anytime you’d like. You’re welcome to kitty snuggles if you want them.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I may have to take you up on that,” Fitz replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She really is.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>At a red light, while they were stopped, Hunter glanced at Fitz and let his eyes linger on him. Fitz looked up from Fig, and met Hunter’s unwavering gaze. The sun was starting to set, the city’s endless glass on fire with the sinking sun, and Hunter’s features were lit up, casting small shadows from his cheekbones, his lower lip, his nose. Fitz had never seen anyone so beautiful, and it literally stole his breath away. He forced himself to look away, feeling the blush in his cheeks.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter didn’t say anything, which Fitz was grateful for, and they drove the rest of the way back to Fitz’s apartment in a comfortable silence. Fitz saw the building at the end of the block, and let out a small breath because he really did not want to go home yet. That wasn’t Hunter’s problem; he’d already spent a week at Fitz’s side. He should get to go home with his wonderful cat and not have to listen to Fitz’s prattling, and spend time with some gorgeous significant other that he hadn’t mentioned but must exist. He shouldn’t have to entertain Fitz any longer. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see Idaho, hold on,” Hunter said after pulling into the usual spot in the parking lot. He dialed Idaho and the line came to life over the car speakers. It rang and rang, but Idaho didn’t pick up. Hunter’s eyebrows pulled down in concern. “Huh. Okay. Let me try –”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, frowning. Fitz followed his gaze to the Jaguar parked beside Grant’s car. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Motherfucker,” Fitz hissed. Fig looked up at him and twitched her tail. “I will kill that man.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span> “Garrett or Grant?” Hunter asked, looking up from the Jag.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to try Tripp, hold on. Don’t get out of the car yet.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure I want to yet, honestly.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter dialed Tripp next who answered almost immediately with a confused, “hey Hunter.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I just got back with Fitz and I don’t see you, or Idaho.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Idaho’s early shift, not mine.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz played with Fig’s tail curiously, and she playfully batted at his hands without hurting him. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t reach him. Would you mind come over and switching?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I can, but it’ll take me about an hour.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine. I can wait until you get here to take off.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you then,” Tripp said, and they hung up.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to wait an hour here until he gets in?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” Hunter said. “It’s my job, I’m their boss, so I cover wherever they can’t make it, and besides, even if I didn’t do that, I’m not going to leave you for an hour unprotected.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want some company while you wait, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got Fig,” Hunter said, “you can go up.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really sweet, Fitz, but I’ll be okay. Thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz eased Fig reluctantly out of his lap and over to Hunter, giving her a single scratch behind the ear. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me if you need anything,” Fitz said, climbing out of the car as Hunter popped the trunk. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Same goes for you. I’m just a phone call away, no matter what it is you need.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“See you in the morning, then?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Be safe, Fitz.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fig meowed from Hunter’s lap as if agreeing with Hunter. Fitz closed the door and grabbed his suitcase from the trunk. He needed a shower, and an orgasm, honestly, not that he was going to get either with John Garrett in the apartment. Although, he may settle for a </span>
  <span>wank</span>
  <span> in the shower alone, and if he pictured Lance Hunter there with him, no one had to know. </span>
  
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>In the apartment doorway, Fitz could hear Grant laughing, following by Garrett’s voice. He took a deep breath and called out a greeting.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” Grant said, mid-laugh, coming out of the kitchen. “You’re home. I thought your flight was delayed or something.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A little, but Hunter had to pick up something time-sensitive on the way back from the airport.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant crossed to him and brought him into his arms for a kiss. Fitz sank into it, feeling foolish that he was apprehensive about coming home. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Garrett was just leaving if you want to go into the bedroom and get more comfortable,” Grant said into his space, and there was something of a wink in his voice.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’d better be leaving,” Fitz said seriously. Grant sighed.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t start, Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. You know how I feel about him, though, and how I feel about him being </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I’m not.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not cheating on you with Garrett.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz only hummed, and ducked out of Grant’s arms to head to the bedroom, icy temper in his mouth waiting. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t actually believe that Grant was fucking Garrett again, but something about Garrett didn’t sit right with Fitz and never had. That was hard to get rid of. Grant had met Garrett when he was a teenager, sixteen and abused, looking for someone to care about him. What had happened instead turned Fitz's stomach a little to think about it. For his loyalty, Grant got taken advantage of. Garrett had essentially groomed him into what he wanted, and then had dumped him as soon as he got bored. Then, when he got bored with everyone else, he’d tow Grant back in with promise of being better, of still needing each other. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He really fucking hated that guy, and it stung every time Grant let him back into their lives, and especially their home, and especially their home when Fitz wasn’t there. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s gone,” Grant said from the doorway to their bedroom while Fitz unpacked his suitcase. “Do you want to talk about this or are you just going to be mad at me?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not mad.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that Garrett comes over,” Grant said. “You know that he’s a part of my life, and you knew that when we got married. Garrett will come around occasionally and you can’t throw a hissy fit and not talk to me every time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what’s happening.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I was gone for a week, and I come home to, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He threw his shirt into the hamper.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you were gone for a week, and you didn’t call me once.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I was busy working.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Every night. You were busy working all night, you couldn’t call because you were working all night every night all week,” Grant said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you just said.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It slipped my mind, and I had a lot on my mind with work.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>makes me feel better.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Fitz said. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to, but I’ll be better next time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want there to be a next time.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to go,” Grant said slowly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t want Garrett to be here, and yet, here we fucking are, Grant. I’m not leaving my job because you don’t like me traveling.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to quit your job, either,” Grant started, but Fitz was shaking his head.</span>
  <span> “</span>
  <span>I’m not that much of an asshole that I want my husband to leave the job that makes him so happy.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what the fuck do you want me to </span>
  <span>do?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I want </span>
  <span>you to love me as much as </span>
  <span>you seem to love your job, Leo.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a sigh and rubbed his hand over his forehead. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously, I love you, Grant. You’re my husband, and I chose you for the rest of our lives,” he said and paused before continuing. He didn’t want to have this fight; he just wanted to settle in after a long flight and relax, maybe eat a homecooked meal made by his husband, fall asleep watching a documentary on serial killers. “But you know my job is important to me, too. You have to understand that. This project is important to me, and sometimes I get hyper-focused on it. I’m sorry for not calling when I said I would, and I’m sorry for hurting you. It wasn’t my intention, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully crossed to Grant and held out his hands for him to take. Grant did, and Fitz towed him the rest of the way to him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Fitz muttered, standing on his toes to kiss him. “I missed you. I’m sorry.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you, too, and I’m sorry. I won’t have Garrett over if it makes you uncomfortable.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was almost too tempting to take him up on that, but he needed Grant to be happy with him. Happy Grant meant sex and cuddles, and sleeping in the same bed. Unhappy Grant meant fighting and not sleeping and having to explain himself again. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I need to trust you. You wouldn’t cheat, I know that, and I want you to have him in your life.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Grant drew him in closer and kissed him deeper, tongue slipping into his mouth as he backed Fitz into the wall. Fitz let Grant hoist him up into the air, trapped between Grant’s frame and their bedroom wall. He left a trail of kisses down the side of Fitz’s neck, going to the nearly healed mark at his collar, gently nipping and sucking at it to reestablish his claim.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t fucked you in a week,” he groaned into Fitz’s skin.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“A travesty,” Fitz breathed out, letting his head fall back against the wall with a light </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Did you think of me during the week?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Every night,” Grant said. “Got myself off thinking about you and what I’d do if you were home. Pictured this a couple times.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What else?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Took you out on the balcony once, fucked you where the world could see.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz flushed at that, concerned that Grant might want to play that fantasy out. Of all the things Fitz could consider as a kink, voyeurism was not one of them.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Grant mumbled, dragging Fitz’s shirt up and over his head so he could mark up the rest of his chest, “I know you’re not into that. Just my fantasy. I’ve got other plans for you today.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz</span>
  <span> didn’t mention his own plans, abandoned now, of showering and going to sleep, but at least this would satisfy his need for an orgasm. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me, Grant,” Fitz said, “please.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If he pictured hunter, holding him close and lighting sparks up his spine, breathing sweet praises in his ear, leaving marks on his chest, no one else had to know. When he came, pressed up against the wall by Grant’s weight, he nearly cried out the wrong name but caught himself in time. No one had to know, not Hunter, not Grant, no one but himself and the shame that followed immediately after. </span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hunter was entirely too observant. When Fitz climbed into the car the next morning, he leaned into Fitz’s space and pushed the collar of his button-down over and let out a whistle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is one hell of a hickey,” he said. “Looks like you had a hell of a reunion.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Fitz said, shoving his hand away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming Garrett’s presence didn’t fuck up your welcome home mood.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it did. I just know how to get out of a fight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With sex?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said. “It’s probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but neither is screaming at my husband about the man he’s never going to remove from his life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t say anything about that,” Hunter said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s certainly a first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve said my piece about Grant, and your marriage. You know how I feel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said, “but you know I won’t be offended. I won’t hate you or anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked at him and said, “for once in my life, I’m going to abstain. This might come up later, and I’ll share, then. If that’s okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll let you abstain. This once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How generous,” Hunter said. Fitz grinned at him, and Hunter gave him a sweet, soft smile.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s Fig?” Fitz asked as Hunter put the car into reverse and backed out of the spot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss her already?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kind of. She’s super sweet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is. And she’s good. She’s glad I’m home, I think. She hopped up on my shoulder while I made dinner last night and perched there until I’d settled into the couch.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds like a better night than I had,” Fitz admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had sex, and I snuggled with my cat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yepp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you intentionally baiting me?” Hunter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said, even though he absolutely was.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know when you’re lying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. You’re a terrible liar. Not nearly as bad as Jemma, but you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something glowed inside Fitz’s chest hearing Jemma’s name so casually come out of Hunter’s mouth, with such familiarity and affection.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so what if I am?” Fitz asked. “What are you going to do about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter let out a slow breath and considered him, taking little glances at him as they drove to the office. At a red light, Hunter looked over at Fitz without blinking.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really want me to say something about this, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just what you’re not saying. You’ve never lied to me before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if withholding opinions counts as lying. I don’t want to, to hurt you or anything. That’s all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that you’re trying to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, if you insist,” Hunter replied. “Replacing sex with fighting doesn’t solve your problems. It doesn’t make the problems go away, but at least fighting, you can hear your partner’s problems. With sex, you’re just masking it. Whatever problems you’re having with Grant, and whatever you’re trying to cover, it’s going to fester instead and ruin whatever happiness you have in your marriage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re worried about the happiness of my marriage?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mate. Your happiness. If it's better for you to stay in your marriage, or if it’s better for you to leave, I support that either way. It’s just, I think, you have to choose one. It doesn’t matter which one but this isn’t healthy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light turned green, and Hunter turned back to the road.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either way,” he continued, “more than anything, that’s your choice to make.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that makes a lot of sense.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” Hunter said then let out a slow breath. “I think you need to have a separate discussion about the expectations for the future.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what he’d say to make Hunter say that, but it wasn’t untrue either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said. “I just, I don’t know how to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just start. Sit him down, and – well, okay, I’m not the best to plot out a healthy conversation with a spouse. But I can tell you what to avoid if you’re looking to hold onto your marriage. Talking is a good place to start, you just have to do it.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Fitz tried.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, he couldn’t make himself talk to Grant about it. When he came home from work at night, riding the high from being with Hunter for the day, he was ready to talk. Then, Grant would kiss him, draw him close by the hips and slip his tongue into Fitz’s mouth, and Fitz felt guilty. Grant was happy, so Fitz should be happy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood outside his apartment door, let out a long, slow breath, and opened the door.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo, is that you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it wasn’t, you’re slipping,” Fitz replied.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling,” Grant said with a laugh, and came out of the kitchen. “You have grease on your cheek. Aren’t you supposed to be off working in the lab for a while?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, usually, but I was helping one of the techs with their own project today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you wash up, then?” Grant asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sighed and nodded. He kicked off his shoes and brought them into the bedroom first, changing out of his work clothes and into lounge clothes, carefully putting his work clothes in the laundry hamper. Then, satisfied that that was taken care of, he went into the bathroom, and washed his face. Grease was always stubborn, and Fitz kept a small bottle of Dawn dish soap underneath their bathroom sink in case of anything really stubborn.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant hated grease, or dirt, anything that reminded him that Fitz worked for a living. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like Grant hadn’t gotten his hands dirty for work before, or with Garrett. But of course, the rules didn’t quite apply to Grant the same way they did Fitz. It was like the marks Grant was allowed to leave on Fitz but none the other way around. Luckily Fitz wore a collared shirt to work, and the only person who’d seen it was Hunter but still, it was more than a little frustrating to have to hide it in the first place when his husband, his supposed partner in life didn’t have to do the same occasionally. It’s not like he wanted to mark Grant up that often anyway, and when he did, it wasn’t anywhere visible, not like the stunning hickey Grant had left on him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not coming off?” Grant asked after Fitz had been in the bathroom a while.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I was just about to get out the dish soap.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant stepped in and took Fitz’s jaw in his hand.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took the wet washcloth that Fitz had been using and ducked down to get the dish soap from the cupboard below. Methodically, he cleaned Fitz’s cheek, eyes tracking over his face slowly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful,” Grant muttered, dropping his head down to kiss Fitz, angling his head away from the soap of his cheek. Fitz groaned and let Grant push him into the sink.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Fitz breathed out, palms flat against Grant’s chest. “I wanted to talk to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can it wait?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rutted against Fitz, the hard line of his cock against Fitz’s belly. Grant’s mouth found the spot on Fitz’s neck that was just starting to fade, and that was the last straw. He pushed Grant’s chest a little and said sharply, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Grant</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant sighed and stepped away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Grant said. “It can’t wait, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t always distract me from talking with sex.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine, you’re right. What did you want to talk about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz used the clean side of the washcloth to wipe away the soap on his cheek, finally cleared of grease, the skin now pinked from scrubbing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first thing,” Fitz said, tugging the side of his shirt over to reveal the mark, “this can’t keep happening. I have a job, too, and it wouldn’t be very professional if my bosses saw hickeys on my neck like I’m a teenager again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one was giving you hickeys when you were a teenager,” Grant scoffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point. If you’re going to leave marks, it cannot be visible. Luckily only Hunter saw this one, but –”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant growled at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why was Hunter undressing you?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t! I got in his car and he could see it. Why would you think I’m cheating on you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You spend an awful amount of time with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s the head of my security. Of course, I spend time with him. That doesn’t mean I’m fucking him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Fitz didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not – don’t distract me. This isn’t about Hunter. This is about you, and me.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He poked Grant’s chest, and steadied his gaze with Grant’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to know if you want a future with me, Grant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant’s face softened and he took Fitz’s jaw in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I want a future with you, Leo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I think we have different ideas of the future,” Fitz said. “We’ve never really talked about it and we should have. I want kids, and a house, and a cat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” Grant sighed. “What’s wrong with the life we have now? You travel for your job now, and I’ll barely get to see you the further into production you get. I like being able to fuck you against the kitchen counter when you get home, and take you out to dinner whenever we want, and go on long weekends on short notice. We can’t do that with kids.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be immediately, you know, but I would like to have kids someday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant frowned and backed away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought we agreed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> agreed, Grant. I said all I needed was you then, but that didn’t mean I didn’t see us having a family. I want to see you in a nursery with our child, rocking them to sleep, and tossing them in the air to make them laugh, and holding them when they have nightmares because you know what that’s like to be scared when you close your eyes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant let out a breathy sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a family, and a house to raise them on the edge of town, maybe in the country a little bit. I want to wake up next to you and hear our kids down the hall laughing. Don’t you, don’t you want that at all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our life now is good,” Grant said. “It’s fun, and uncomplicated.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all you want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I’m happy with the way things are now. I don’t want things to change.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was, Fitz was coming to realize, that Fitz </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Grant would never understand that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz said. “Well, can you promise you’ll think about it? I don’t need an answer immediately. You can take your time to decide, but I need you to think about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant leaned in and kissed him, slower and sweeter than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise. I want to make you happy, Leo. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They got the travel orders the next day, and they’d be traveling for three weeks, spending a week in each site for a more thorough examination as they went into production. Fitz had been in communication with each production site manager over the week to make sure they had what they needed to update their protocols and sites. They were all anxious to get production under way, as was he.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three weeks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Fitz said. “It’s a long time, longer than we’ve gone before, but I have to go and make sure it’s safe for everyone and being handled properly. If anything happens that could have been prevented, it’s on me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Leo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant did not look pleased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will call you every night,” Fitz said, taking his hips in his hands and dragging him close. “I promise to be better about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you willing to try something new with me?” Grant asked.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to try phone sex with you, if you’re up to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might be agreeable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhm, hearing you moan my name while thinking about me? Sounds like a good time to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to come home on weekends or stay there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re traveling on the weekends, so no, unfortunately. Plus, I got them to agree to a few extra days in London. There’s something I want to talk to my mum about.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Alistair Fitz is actually my father.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant’s eyebrows rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t really think you looked like Alistair in that photo you still have, to be honest,” Grant replied. “And you don’t look a lot like your mom either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, this executive at Shield said I looked like my dad, Holden.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and you haven’t contacted your mom yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it feels like a thing I need to talk to her about in person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s reasonable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Daisy actually found him in the Shield files. I have his eyes apparently.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant chuckled and kissed along his cheek, down the curve of his jaw, up to his lips. Moments like this were why he’d stayed married to Grant, the sweet side of him, the one that only came out when they were alone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He must be a looker then,” Grant teased, “to have such a gorgeous son like you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Fitz said, running his hands up Grant’s chest and resting on either side of his neck. “You already married me; you don’t have to compliment me in order to get me in bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve to hear it,” Grant replied. “You deserve to hear how beautiful I think you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you have no ulterior motive, mister?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s your hand doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant had slipped a hand down from his shoulder to the small of his back discreetly, fingers tucked under the waistband of his slacks and into his underwear. He didn’t pause, even caught, slipping in further and squeezing Fitz’s ass.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is unrelated. You know I have a thing for your ass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Fitz said. “But not sure I believe it’s unrelated.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re beautiful and I love you, and unrelated, I want to eat you out so good tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promises,” Fitz hummed as Grant ducked his head to kiss down his throat, pointedly avoiding the mark that he’d left before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I intend to keep them.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>On the flight to Kentucky, Hunter and Fitz watched Ocean’s Eight, which Hunter raved was the best heist movie ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plus,” Hunter said, “Anne Hathaway is a bombshell of a woman.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You don’t agree? She is, she’s absolutely stunning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yes, she is. She’s a movie star, so of course, she is stunning. I just didn’t expect you to be into someone like her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, yes, mate,” Hunter laughed, and a businessman to one side of them gave them an irritated look. “I mean, you’re certainly more </span>
  <em>
    <span>my type</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but who doesn’t adore Anne Hathaway?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your type?” Fitz asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter winked at him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like married men with several degrees and threats against their lives,” Hunter teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, if that’s all,” Fitz replied.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you talk to Grant?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About one thing, not the other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The future. I told him that I wanted a house and kids someday, and apparently, he has never thought about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you two been together?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five years,” Fitz replied. “We were together for two years when we got married, and then we’ve been married for three years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five years, and you’ve never once talked about what the future looks like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’ve tried. I’ve asked about what type of house we’d have, or if we could have a cat, or a dog, but he’s shut me down before, or changed the subject.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice guy,” Hunter grumbled. Fitz chuckled.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. It doesn’t sound good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds terrible, Fitz.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz rested his head back against the headrest and Hunter poked him lightly in the arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I convinced him to at least think about it, but I don’t have a guarantee that he’ll change his mind or choose what I want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if he doesn’t? Is that a deal breaker?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Maybe.” He let himself be quiet for a moment, watching the heist at the Met Gala play out on screen. “It’s not just the kids. It’s the life he wants right now. He wants freedom, I guess, to do whatever he wants, no strings attached. He wants to go where he wants, and see who he wants, and have no commitment to anything. We live in a penthouse in the middle of the city because it’s local to all of the bars and restaurants and clubs, but I don’t -- do I seem like the kind of person to hang out at clubs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem like the kind of person to hang out in the library.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! I want to go to bookstores, and libraries, and science museums, and Grant wants loud club music, and shots, and expensive dinners. We’re not – I know the saying is opposites attract, and I am attracted to Grant, obviously,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” Hunter echoed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I have nothing in common with him, and I never have. I’ve never thought about it before. I married a man who doesn’t want a future with me, who has to </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said. “He wants a future with you. He’d be completely mental not to. You’re a great person; you’re fun to be around, and least of all, you’re gorgeous. I wouldn’t mind being your husband.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed quietly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I mean is that he wants a future with you, clearly, because he married you, and he wants you to stay married to him, and he’s there when you come home at night. It may not be the future you pictured, but it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>a future.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Fitz said softly. “It’s just, I thought we’d at least have talked about kids, or decided that we’d have them </span>
  <em>
    <span>someday</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t need them now, obviously, not with my job, or you know, the death threats. I just, I want to know they’re a possibility.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that. Any idea what you’re going to do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It seems silly to split up over that, but also how can I stay with him if that’s the case?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not silly, Fitz. Having different ideas of the future is definitely not silly. It’s completely reasonable to want a certain future with someone and to split up if those ideals don’t match.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do like hearing that I’m right. That’s always thrilling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess this is fruitless to worry about anyway since I don’t know what his decision is yet. He could absolutely want kids after he thinks about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He could,” Hunter agreed although they both knew that it was unlikely. There was a part of Fitz that had always known, of course, but he’d chosen this life with Grant with all of the disappointments that came with him. By all accounts, Fitz should be deliriously happy with his beautiful husband, their expensive apartment, their lavish belongings, but he wasn’t. Somewhere it felt like he’d settled. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“You’re quiet,” Hunter said when they checked into their hotel in Kentucky. It was the same one from before, although their rooms were on a higher floor this time. “Are you okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking about me and Grant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s room connected to Fitz’s this time so as soon as they were in the room, they opened the doors and Hunter sank into Fitz’s bed without invitation. He didn’t need it. Hunter was just a part of Fitz’s life now, without hesitation, without effort. They just fit together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” Fitz asked, wanting to distract himself from the pit in his chest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not thinking about you and Grant,” Hunter said with a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, tell me about literally anything. Have you been seeing anyone? Did you and Bobbi think of the future? Why did you divorce? Literally anything, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bobbi and I,” Hunter said, trailing off. “We didn’t really have a future. We got married after barely knowing each other, and no matter what we did couldn’t make up for that. Granted, what we tried was sex to cover it up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz snorted a little and fell onto the bed next to Hunter, laying back and staring up at the ceiling, at the swirling designs of the ceiling tiles, looping in and around each other infinitely. Hunter laid down beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not seeing anyone. It’s a little difficult to find someone who’s willing to start something if you’re traveling all the time, or following behind usually entitled assholes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I an entitled asshole?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said usually. You’re an exception.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz smiled but kept it to himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wish there was someone?” Fitz asked after a moment of silence. He wasn’t sure why he was asking, what he was hoping to learn from it. Even if Hunter did want a partner, that didn’t mean he wanted Fitz, and even if he did, Fitz was married. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I’d love to go to bed next to someone, and wake up with their face in my chest, and take them out to fancy restaurants, and hear them laugh at something I said. Who doesn’t want that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, and tell me if I cross a line here, I miss having a consistent partner in bed. Like, one-night stands and flings are great, but I miss exploring with someone, trying stuff out and figuring out what does and doesn’t feel good for them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz and Grant hadn’t had that, not as far as Fitz could remember. They hadn’t explored new stuff together. It was always Grant deciding what they were going to do, and then doing it. Like, Fitz realized, the upcoming phone sex he’d promised him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss the familiarity of being with the same person,” Hunter sighed. “But you are my priority right now, and that’s more important that finding some mystery person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we’re at home, though, you don’t have to watch over me at night. Why not go out and meet someone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you so intent on me finding someone to shag?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz couldn’t say that he wanted to be that someone, and he couldn’t say that it would be less tempting to kiss Hunter if he knew that Hunter wasn’t single. Instead, he shrugged and said, “maybe I’m just trying to distract myself and your love life is right there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter turned onto his side and Fitz turned to face him on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Take me out on a date, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz spluttered but managed to ask, “excuse me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say we met before you were married, and we fancied each other. Distract yourself by taking me out on a date. What does a Leo Fitz original first date look like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter, come on,” Fitz laughed, trying to play it off, but when he looked at Hunter, he had his serious expression on. “Oh, you’re not kidding. Okay. Let me think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to; he’d already imagined this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s this restaurant on the edge of the city that I think you’d like. It’s this build your own burger place, and the owner always prides themself on having the freshest ingredients so they have this good deal with the farmer's market. There’s this really cool arcade section, too, with all of these out-of-print arcade systems and – why are you looking at me like that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not looking at you any particular way. I’m just looking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think so far?” Fitz asked, somehow a little nervous even though the date was pretend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect,” Hunter replied, and Fitz couldn’t help the smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant plans the dates, so I never get to do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s missing out, clearly,” Hunter said. “What else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s also a little park around the corner where we can take a walk in the sunset, talking and getting to know each other. It’s absolutely gorgeous. It’s not quite a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hike,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it’s a start. Maybe on later dates, I’d let you take me out on actual hiking trails, show me your favorite spots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re going on multiple dates, are we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course. You think in this fantasy world I’d leave you after one date?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fantasizing about me, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up. You know what I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that you fantasize about taking me on a date and dating me,” Hunter teased. “Which is extremely naughty, Fitz.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who started this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I have fantasies about you, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter,” Fitz laughed, but then shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You being married doesn’t bother me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re incorrigible, you know that? Absolutely incorrigible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard that before, strangely enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He playfully hit Hunter’s chest, but as he drew away, Hunter caught his wrist with the kind of reflexes that Fitz only associated with Melinda May. Before Fitz could even break free – which wouldn’t have been hard, Hunter’s grip was loose enough that it would be easy to – Hunter dragged him in close and his other hand dug in to Fitz’s side where he was ticklish. The noise wasn’t entirely human, and his cheeks burned for a moment. He didn’t have time to focus, though, because Hunter released his other hand and let it drift down his arm gently, to his side, and then in tandem, both hands tickled Fitz’s sides and stomach. He was like a livewire, squirming and thrashing underneath Hunter. Each touch of Hunter’s fingers against Fitz lit him on fire, laughs boiling out of him until he couldn’t breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on,” Fitz wheezed out and Hunter’s fingers immediately stopped.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t catch my breath,” Fitz said, forcing himself to take a deep breath, and soothe his aching lungs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Hunter who still had his hands against Fitz’s sides, palms flat against him with his fingers spread out, and Fitz couldn’t remember what it had felt like before Hunter had touched him.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter had absolutely beautiful eyes, which Fitz had noticed before. In sunlight, they practically glowed golden, and even in the hotel lighting, Fitz couldn’t look away enraptured by the green and gold around his pupil. He had incredibly long eyelashes, enviably so if Fitz cared about that sort of thing. He’d been friends with Jemma and Daisy to understand, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Hunter licked along his lower lip, and Fitz let his eyes fall to his mouth. He had pointedly avoided not looking at Hunter’s mouth just because he would never look away, obsessed with the color, the curve, the way his beard practically drew Fitz’s mouth. Hunter made it hard, with the way he’d chase a straw with his tongue or chew on his lip while he was working. Fitz was only human, married or not, and Hunter was a temptuous sin walking around in tight shirts and even tighter pants.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz,” Hunter breathed out and Fitz loved the way his name sounded on those lips. He looked up at Hunter who had something like hope in his eyes, his own gaze on Fitz’s mouth. It would be so easy to just lean into Hunter and kiss him. He was so close, and he smelled wonderful, even after several hours of airports and planes. Kissing him would be so easy, just leaning in, closing the gap, and Fitz could finally discover –  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trill of Fitz’s ringtone broke them out of it, and Hunter quickly moved back away from Fitz to a respectful distance. Fitz found his phone on the bedspread nearby, Grant’s contact photo practically dancing on the screen while it vibrated.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should get that. I’ll go into my own room, give you privacy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter,” Fitz started, but Hunter waved Fitz away as he crossed the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, Fitz. No harm done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Hunter left, closing the door between them.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz answered the phone, putting on a cheery voice, “hey, I was just about to call you.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Things were weird between him and Hunter. They were stilted and awkward in a way that Fitz was unfamiliar with. Hunter had never been distant from the moment they’d met. They’d been almost too familiar with each other, and maybe that was the problem. Fitz had felt comfortable enough to let Hunter touch him like that, and had felt comfortable enough to entertain the thought of kissing him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter didn’t make jokes during the day. He didn’t stand too close to Fitz and murmur in his ear. Instead, he stood back and watched a model bodyguard. At lunch, Hunter didn’t smile at him, or ask him any personal questions. When they did talk, it was about Fitz’s schedule or the project. When they got back to the hotel room, the door stayed shut. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Wednesday May 1</b>
  <b>st</b>
  <b>, 6:37pm</b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>Bus Kids</b>
  
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I did something stupid </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: You realize that it’s almost midnight here, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Sorry </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I still need your help </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma</b>
  <span>: What’s up? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I ruined everything </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: What did you do? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I almost kissed Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: And now he won’t talk to me unless it's about work </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: You’re married </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I know that </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma</b>
  <span>: Are you more worried about almost cheating, or Hunter not talking to you? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Hunter not talking to me </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma</b>
  <span>: Well, you could apologize </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I guess </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: I don’t think I’m sorry though </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: He is hot, I can’t blame you  </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: He is, and he’s sweet, and he was so close </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: Do you wish you’d have kissed him at least? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Yeah </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: If you want him as a friend, explain to him you got caught up in the moment and you won’t let it happen again. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: If you want him as something more, explain that to him and let him decide what he wants to do.  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Hunter,” Fitz said, catching his elbow as they started towards the elevator the next morning, “can I talk to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to be late if we don’t leave,” Hunter said, and he wasn’t looking at Fitz. Fitz wanted to see his eyes, wanted to see the emotions in his eyes. He wanted to see Hunter look at him, and know what he was feeling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be late, then. I want to talk to you first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this is about Sunday, don’t worry about it. I get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you –” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No harm done, okay?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter. I don’t want –” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Fitz. You have a husband, and it’s – just forget it, okay?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Hunter looked at him, and there was something sad in his eyes, a longing that Fitz knew by name, a longing that lived in his own chest and ate his food and breathed his air.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to?” Fitz asked, and he could hear the longing speaking with his voice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter what I want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz couldn’t keep his hands to himself any longer, choosing instead to tug him closer, and thankfully, Hunter came. He wrapped Hunter in his arms for a hug, because no matter what, he needed Hunter to know – he didn’t even know. There weren’t words for what he wanted Hunter to know. Hunter chuckled, a sweet, sad sound that Fitz filed away in all of the things he was starting to love about Hunter, and wrapped his arms around Fitz’s waist, tucking his face into his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I care about what you want, you know,” Fitz muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t do it again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed that way for a moment too long; Fitz was starting to believe he belonged there. A door down the hall opened and Hunter stepped back. He touched Fitz’s face, brushing his thumb along Fitz’s cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get going,” he said, and when his hand dropped, Fitz watched Hunter shutter that longing away, professional and alert. Fitz wished it were that easy. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“What do we do?” Fitz asked that night, tucked away from Hunter on the bed, the spread of their dinner between them. He had managed to keep quiet all day, and not bring up </span>
  <em>
    <span>it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But sitting so close to him, in this room where it was just them, he couldn’t stop himself. He had to know.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a you thing, Fitz,” Hunter said, and Fitz could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible. “What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> do? You’re married. You have a life with your husband. This, whatever it is or turns into, this is up to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz hid his face in his hands, unwilling to face this. He wanted the world outside of this hotel room to disappear so he never had to think about anything else, so he could just have Hunter in his life uncomplicated. He wanted his wedding ring, a symbol of his promise to Grant, to disintegrate where it rested on his finger.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said, reaching over the takeaway barrier and touching Fitz’s arm. “I don’t expect anything from you. I know this is an impossible situation, and you have some decisions to make, but you can take your time. I’m okay with being your friend, and your friend </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> until you make your decision, and after if that’s what you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No matter what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter squeezed his arm and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No matter what, Fitz. I want to be in your life regardless of the context.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a much better man than me,” Fitz said. “I’m having a hard time not sticking my tongue in your mouth right now knowing you might want me to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter laughed and it was such a delightful sound that Fitz could momentarily forget the ache in his chest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s that, too,” Hunter said. “I’ve done okay so far not kissing you, so it’s – well, it’s not easy, but –” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his hand away. Fitz looked at him and he let out a slow breath, deliberate and measured.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me like that, Fitz.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you’re a second away from asking me to run away with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might,” Fitz said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I ask you not to? It’s already impossible to keep my distance. I remind myself every day that you’re married and love your husband, even if your marriage isn’t perfect, just so I don’t kiss you goodnight. If you ask me to run away with you, I won’t be able to say no,” Hunter said, and the edge of sadness in his voice was enough to cool any desire Fitz was kindling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I never wanted to hurt you, Fitz.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go,” Hunter said, moving to stand, his food untouched, “to make this easier on both of us. If you need me, I’m right over there, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded and let him go, sitting back against the pillows, his own food growing cold.  </span>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Hey, can we get Indian?” Fitz asked the next day at lunch. “I don’t know if there’s Indian in this town, but I could really, really use some Indian food.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll look,” Hunter said, taking out his phone to look through the local spots. “Do you want your usual?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remember that without my menu?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter paused and then said softly, “yeah. It’s important to you, so, of course I remember.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz had a hard time not staring at Hunter on a good day, but when he did things like this – tell him he was important, remember his usual order, immediately agree to whatever Fitz wanted for lunch and offer to get it for him even though he was his bodyguard, not his assistant – it made it hard to look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Fitz said softly, and he was rewarded with Hunter’s smile. It was the best thing he could imagine. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>New York was... difficult. The hotel had apparently double-booked one of their rooms, so they were put in a single room instead with a sincere apology by the manager on duty and meal voucher for their attached buffet restaurant. And, as if the world wasn’t terribly funny enough, there was a single bed in the center of the room. They let themselves into the room, quiet and apprehensive, and froze. They’d been told it would be a single bed, but Fitz had assumed at least it would be large enough that he could pretend they weren’t sharing a bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hunter said, looking at the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be, it’ll be fine. We’re adults,” Fitz said softly. “We can easily not touch each other just because we’re sharing a bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Sure,” Hunter said slowly, setting his suitcase on the dresser. “It’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’ll, it’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If they kept saying the words, maybe the universe would be kind and it would be fine. It started off fine, at least. They were still friends, capable of conversation, capable of comfortable silences. They each sat on their own side of the bed, or at the little table by the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The problem was, they were sharing a room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And a bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to shower,” Hunter said. “Wash the plane off me. Do you need to get in there first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, no. I’m good. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded and stepped into the bathroom with his towel. Fitz sat down on the bed and stared into the bedspread below him before taking out his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Saturday May 4th, 3:10pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: ????????????????????????</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>New York only has one hotel room for us, and as if there’s no god in the world, there is a single fucking bed that I now have to share with Hunter</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Oh boy you okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I have no idea</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Well, you can keep your hands to yourself, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Yeah, I’m not some horny animal </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Just don’t touch him</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Right. Okay. Just don’t touch him. I can do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Yes, you can.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Okay. Okay. I just won’t touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I know it’s going to be hard, because HOT BOI, but you CAN do this</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to the bathroom opened, and Hunter came out. Fitz stopped typing mid-reply, and stared shamelessly. The towel he’d brought into the bathroom was slung around his hips, a little too low, and Fitz felt his mouth go dry, unable to look away from him. Water dripped down his chest, and he followed its path down Hunter’s abdomen. He’d never seen Hunter without his shirt, and he’d certainly never seen him </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The world was cruel. He’d never forget Hunter, naked and dripping wet, for the rest of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crossed the room in front of Fitz, apparently unaware.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter,” Fitz said, and his voice sounded strangled as it came out. Hunter stopped by the dresser where he’d left his suitcase and paused, looking at Fitz before looking down at himself. Then, after a moment of inspection then realization, he looked back up at Fitz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t - I didn’t think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz said, aware of the fact that he hadn’t looked away from Hunter yet. “I, uhh, should stop, stop looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me grab some clothes,” Hunter said. “I’ll make sure to bring clothes in next time. I forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded. Hunter swiped up clothes from his bag and then headed back, and Fitz swore he saw a faint blush along his cheeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I’m not sure it’s possible, but I might die of a boner this week</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>?????????</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Hunter just came out of the shower with just a towel on</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>OH</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Good luck babe you’re on your own here</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>That night, they lay side by side in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Fitz’s elbow brushed against Hunter’s, flat on his back. He wasn’t used to laying like this, normally a side sleeper, but he wasn’t sure he could fall asleep with Hunter so close. But he couldn’t not sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz,” Hunter said in the dark. “I’m sorry about earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to make this harder on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be more careful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz turned his head to look at Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not going to do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable. You can relax. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not worried about you,” Fitz replied. “I know you won’t hurt me, or do anything I don’t want. I’m worried about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I trust what I would do given the chance, or if I trust myself in my sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t hold it against you if you snuggle in your sleep, or if you get a boner in the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, Fitz. I get it, but I guess what I mean is that there’s nothing you could do that would scare me off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning breath, sleep talking, sleep walking, anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked at him, slowly taking in the angles of his face in the faint light streaming through the parted curtains. The hotel overlooked Lake Ontario and the boardwalk nearby, so they’d left the curtains open. Then, he turned onto his side, his back facing the window so he could still see Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sleep better on my side,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sleep better holding something,” Hunter said, and there was that faint blush along his cheekbones. “If you don’t mind me being forward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to cuddle me against you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz paused, considering it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t expect anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a good night’s sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay. Come here, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shifted again, turning onto his other side and let Hunter’s arms wrap around him. They settled in, quiet in their hotel room. It was comfortable. It was familiar, somehow despite never having experienced this. He’d pictured it enough, tucked against him in his dreams, between meetings, on the flights, in the car, all the times Hunter was right there beside him but he wasn’t able to be with him. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Sunday May 5th, 10:32 pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>Are you going to call me this week?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Sorry, I’ve been staying late at the office all week and crashing as soon as we get back</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>You can call me even when it’s late</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>You know that</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Right, hold on</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz tapped Grant’s contact and lifted his phone to his ear. Hunter had decided to take a long shower, and had announced it a few minutes before so he wasn’t nervous about Hunter listening in. He just wasn’t sure he was in the mood for conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Fitz said as a greeting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I just thought you were going to be better about calling me this time. It’s a lot longer than a week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. You know how I get about work. It’s just so exciting working alongside all of these scientists who get it, you know? They understand –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice,” Grant said, cutting him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right, Fitz thought to himself, Grant wasn't interested in his job no matter how hard he tried to convince himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How was your week?" Fitz asked. "Anything exciting happen at the bank this week?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? Oh, no. No. Nothing exciting ever happens," Grant replied. "It's a bank."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There has to be something. That seems like the perfect place for drama and," he trailed off. "I miss you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I miss you," Grant replied. "Do you want to know how much I miss you, and what I want to do to you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Fitz said, having forgotten he'd wanted this. "Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah? You want to know how I'd kiss you all over, laying you out on our bed. I love to hear the way you whine high and needy for me, and I'd hold you down underneath me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?" Fitz said, shifting back onto the bed. "Are you going to tease me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant hummed, and he heard the bed shift underneath him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz listened to Grant talk to him, dirty and unapologetic. He laid down and made the appropriate noises at Grant so he'd believe Fitz was into this. He wasn't uninterested, but he was tired and kind of wanted to turn on the History channel for terrible Aliens Built the Pyramid documentaries. He could hear Grant’s groaning as he stroked himself, while Fitz turned on the television and turned the volume down, flipping through until he found a terrible looking documentary. There was a hitch in his speech just as the documentary clearly did some dramatic reveal, a groan that sounded like Fitz’s name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting quiet on me?” Grant asked, breathless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like hearing you, that’s all,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhm,” Fitz replied, almost reaching for the bag of chips he’d left on his bedside but stopping himself. That would be a giveaway, and he probably shouldn’t be eating in bed. It was a nice hotel, and Hunter most certainly wouldn’t appreciate crumbs in the bed with them. They had landed in New York the evening before, and had a day off to themselves. They’d slept in, and gotten diner food for brunch, visited local museums and walked down Lake Ontario’s shore at sunset, and gotten dinner delivered to their rooms. They had less time in New York as they had before, a much smaller site than the others, and they’d be leaving on Friday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving on Friday meant that he got to spend the entire weekend in Scotland with his mum finally. There was only a five hour train ride from Glasgow to London, which had once seemed so far but after living in America for so long seemed like nothing at all. That meant they were landing Friday night in Glasgow, with a cute layover in London, thanks to some finagling with management, spending Saturday and Sunday with his mum, and then Sunday afternoon, they were making their way to London to check into their hotel for the week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t wait to see her. It had been far too long since he’d seen her, his questions about his parentage aside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” Grant groaned into the phone, and Fitz remembered what was happening. He had started to drift off a bit, in all honesty. He could fall asleep anywhere, he was sure. He often fell asleep masturbating by himself, so it was inevitable he might doze a bit while his husband played with himself to some fantasy of him. It wasn’t a crime, and if Grant never knew, that was certainly fine by him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep going,” Fitz breathed intentionally into the mic on his phone, and predictably Grant moaned at his encouragement. That was endearing, at least. Fitz knew how to rile Grant up as well. “Please, Grant. I’m so close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an octopus documentary on next, according to a little octopus that popped up in the corner of the screen with a wavy tentacle. Marine life had never interested Fitz much. He much preferred tech to living creatures, that was Jemma’s expertise. Although her studies were more focused on human biology and chemistry, he was sure she had to have some kind of fun fact in her brain. She always did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t wait to see her, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be too difficult to convince Grant to move to London, considering it was impossible to get him to consider a house in the suburbs, but for a moment, he let himself picture it, living so close to Jemma, and Daisy, a short train ride from his mum. They could have game nights again, and hit local pubs, and he could bounce ideas off Jemma. He’d be closer to his other half. If soulmates existed, Jemma Simmons was his. She’d been by his side, and him by hers, since they were sixteen. They were inseparable, until they weren’t, of course, but so much of his adult life had been spent with Jemma right there, and it was almost unconscionable to be apart now. Because of the time difference between California and London, he didn’t get the time he wanted with her, either. He was lucky for a Sunday afternoon phone call or video chat. They texted every day, and had a lively group chat with Daisy as well, but it wasn’t the same as walking down to her office and dropping into her chair like he belonged there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe someday he could convince Grant to follow them to London. It wasn’t like his family was around, since Thomas wanted nothing to do with him, he didn’t want anything to do with Christian, and no one even knew where Alicia, their sister, was. She’d graduated high school and vanished. Her name might not even be Alicia Ward anymore. Fitz was his only family, really, his chosen family even. They’d chosen each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was always an except, he supposed, and this one was shaped like John Garrett. Grant wouldn’t leave California with Fitz as long as John Garrett was around. He had Grant tied up on a leash, never letting him go far. No matter what Fitz tried to do, he would never have a larger say in their lives than Garrett. It didn’t matter that it was Fitz’s ring on Grant’s finger, and Fitz who slept in Grant’s bed, and Fitz who dealt with Grant’s thundercloud moods. It didn’t matter that Fitz soothed any lingering nightmares, and took care of him when he was sick, and remembered his birthday, and that he hated caramel so he made his own chocolate box at Christmas. None of that mattered because he was Jonathan Garrett somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Leo," Grant moaned into the phone as he came, and Fitz closed his eyes, angry and bitter. He looked at the octopus on screen, floating through the water with pushes from his tentacles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to go," Fitz said hurriedly. "Goodnight, Grant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up and turned his phone on Do Not Disturb so Grant's messages, if he cared to send any after an orgasm, wouldn't wake him up. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Sunday May 5th, 11:19pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant:</b>
  <span> Do you want to talk about why you hung up on me?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant</b>
  <span>: Did you not enjoy it?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant</b>
  <span>: Leo?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant</b>
  <span>: Really the silent treatment?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Monday May 6th, 12:13pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant</b>
  <span>: Goodnight, I guess</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Monday May 6th, 6:45am</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: We need to talk when I get home</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Like actually talk</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I don't want to be the third wheel in our marriage anymore</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Thursday May 9th, 4:30pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Bus Kids</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>In 24 hours I will be in England on my way to Scotland for the first time since I got married</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>Abi must be thrilled you're coming</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>……</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Fuck</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Leo: </b>
  <span>Hey Mum, I know it's late but I forgot to let you know that I'll be coming to Scotland tomorrow. I'm sorry if this wakes you up. I love you.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Mum</b>
  <span>: What a surprise! Do you need a ride from the airport? Is it just you or is your husband coming as well?</span>
</p><p><b>Leo: </b><span>It'll</span> <span>be me and a friend, not Grant, and we're renting a car </span></p><p>
  <b>Leo</b>
  <span>: I hope that's okay. Are you free Saturday for tea?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Mum</b>
  <span>: I can be for you, just come on home and let yourself in, you know where the key is hidden</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Mum</b>
  <span>: If I'm not home, I'm at the shops and I'll be by soon </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Mum</b>
  <span>: ❤️</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Bus Kids</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>May have forgotten to tell her until just now</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: You're a terrible son</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>That's been established</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma</b>
  <span>: No it hasn't you're a lovely son and Abigail would've been okay with you just showing up on her doorstep. She loves you and raised you. She knows you skip social steps sometimes. It's just how your mind works.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: Can I meet your mom someday? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz:</b>
  <span> Sure she'd probably obsess over you. She'd have so many hacker questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: I love her already</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Mum? Are you home?” Fitz called, letting them into the house with his key. He’d never once knocked on his mum’s door, and he was sure she might throw a fit if he tried.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo!” she said, bustling out of the back room, paint in her hair and on her apron. She didn’t pause to take her apron off before wrapping him in a hug, but he didn’t mind. He had never minded. He’d grown up with paint flecks in his hair, on his clothes, along his cheek from where she’d rub her cheek with his thumb. “My boy!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Mum,” he said softly. She sighed into his neck, and he gladly sank into her a little. Eventually, though, too soon, he stepped back and cleared his throat. “I actually brought company.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt her tense a little, raising her head and looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Lance Hunter, he’s a friend, and my bodyguard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bodyguard</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greet first, yell at me in a second.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Lance,” she said, turning and smiling at him. “It is very nice to meet you. Come in, come in. I was just about to make a cup of tea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be nice,” Hunter said. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! He’s English! Where’d you find an English bodyguard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter works for Shield as well, and was assigned to me by the company.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why would that be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter and Fitz exchanged a look before Fitz said carefully, “well, after the news of the project leaked, so did my name, and there’s some people who aren’t super pleased, if you’ll imagine, that the devices are going into development.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out how to tell his mum about some threats against his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a precaution,” Hunter said for him, though. “Some people were acting up about it, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leo</span>
  </em>
  <span> is very important to us. We protect our own, which is why I’m here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked at Hunter who winked at him while his mum’s back was to them. Fitz liked the way Leo sounded on Hunter’s tongue, though, more than anyone else who had ever said it. He’d never called Fitz that, either, but he’d let Hunter call him anything he wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad Shield is taking his safety seriously.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed as they entered the kitchen, turning to look at Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Abigail, Lance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he replied with a nod.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Sit down, then. I’ll start the kettle, and we can talk about why you’re here, Leopold.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think I can be here just to see my mum?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you’re not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sighed, and gestured Hunter into a seat at the small table. Not much in the house had changed since he’d been a kid. There was still a scorch mark on the kitchen table from one of his experiments gone wrong, and the spot he’d scratched his name into with his screwdriver that his dad had given him hell for. Hunter touched the blocky </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leopold</span>
  </em>
  <span> in front of him, feeling the wood underneath the stain.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too perceptive,” Fitz said to Hunter more than anyone but he heard his mum chuckle a little. “I never got away with anything when I was a kid. If I tried, she’d know and just stare at me until I told her what I’d done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was inherited, I see,” Hunter replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do. You somehow knew I’d gotten chips without you, and stared at me until I bought you your own.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was rude of you to begin with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter rolled his eyes, but with his cute, little fond smile.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you get into personal security, Lance?” his mum asked instead of diving into why Fitz was there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was in the army prior to joining Shield Labs, and when I got out, I wasn’t exactly cut out for a desk job. I’m better on my feet, working with my hands, that sort of thing, and my training makes me extremely well suited to keeping an eye on people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s interesting. And you like this line of work?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. Leo is doing a good thing for the world, as are most of the Shield teams, so if I can help that good thing happen for the world, then I’m glad to do my part.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good to hear,” she said. “So you’re taking care of my boy. Has he been behaving?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum,” Fitz groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am. He’s a model citizen. If only all of my assignments were so good,” Hunter said with a laugh, a charming sound that Fitz had to keep from sighing at, “my job would be much easier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I raised a good boy,” she said, patting Fitz on the cheek. “Now, what is my good boy doing home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Ah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words dried up, and he stared at his mum for a moment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he said slowly, and met his mum’s eyes. “What do you know about Holden Radcliffe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mum recoiled, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone mistook me for his son,” Fitz said carefully.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An executive in the London office of Shield Labs. Apparently he used to work there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she breathed out, “he did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mum, is Alistair my da?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. He’s not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a breath, and looked down at his hands. He had so many questions and he didn’t know where to start.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Wh-what happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your da, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alistair</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you remember how he was. He worked long hours, and when he was home, he was mean and – I met Holden through Alistair. They worked together. We met for coffee a few times a week, which turned into meeting for lunch every day, and then, I fell in love with him. I had an affair with him, and was planning on leaving Alistair to be with him when I found out I was pregnant with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Why did you stay with Alistair, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t actually know,” she said softly. “I didn’t know if you were Holden’s or Alistair’s at first. I hoped, obviously. Holden was, and is a good man still, and any child of his would be the greatest gift, but – you have to understand, Leo. I was overjoyed to be your mum regardless. You were mine before you were theirs, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused to take a drink from her tea, and Fitz let her gather her thoughts. He kept his eyes on her, though, unable to look at Hunter yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holden said he’d raise you as his own either way when I told him I wasn’t sure. It had just been my anniversary with Alistair, so there was a possibility, obviously. Holden, he – I was planning on leaving Alistair after I told Holden about you. Then, Alistair started asking questions about the pregnancy symptoms I was having, and what I did during the day when he was at work. I got scared. I told him that I was planning on surprising him with the news, but since he was too smart for that, I had some news, and I told him he was going to be a father. It’s the most excited I’d ever seen him, and I thought maybe he could change for you. I thought maybe our lives would be better, we’d be closer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It broke Holden’s heart when I told him I couldn’t leave Alistair. He’s such a good man, and he’s incredibly sweet, so he let me go. I broke off the affair, and stayed with Alistair, but when you were born, there was no mistaking that you were Holden’s. You’ve had his eyes since the day you were born, Leo. You have his heart, and his mind. Every day you astound me. You met your da once when you were a baby. I took you for a walk in the park and Holden met me there. He picked you up and held you close and kissed your forehead. That was the only time he held you, but you are still absolutely his son, and you prove it every day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After Da, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alistair</span>
  </em>
  <span> left, why didn’t you go back to Holden?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten years had passed, and so much had changed. My main concern at that point was you, how was I going to keep a roof over your head, how I was going to make sure you felt loved after he’d left us, how I was going to afford your books and extra lessons and – I didn’t have time for romance. I was your mum first. Since that test said that you were real, I have been your mum first and foremost. I offered to tell you about him, but Holden said that would just confuse you, and complicate your life, especially if Alistair ever got word. He didn’t want you to get hurt. He loves you so much; he couldn’t imagine you getting hurt so he could know you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you,” Fitz started but trailed off.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, sweetie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where he is now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. We’ve kept in contact every few years. I keep him up to date with your life, what you’re doing, what you’ve accomplished. Sometimes he knows what you’re up to before I do, with his Shield connections.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to contact him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so. I, I never felt connected to Alistair, and it makes sense now but I thought it might be nice to know where I come from. Well, I mean, I know where I come from. I come from here with you, but you know what I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, love. I can get you his number, hold on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood up and crossed the kitchen, rifling through a pile of papers in a drawer. Finally, he chanced a look at Hunter.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Hunter asked quietly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, actually. It feels good knowing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to call him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea. I like having the option.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Here!” his mum said, coming back with a business card that she set in front of him. He picked it up, and looked it over carefully.  </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Dr. Holden Radcliffe, PhD</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>On the back, there was a chicken scratch scrawl of a number, and a small HJR initialed beside it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t mind?” Fitz asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, love, he’ll be overjoyed.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Are you going to call him?" Hunter asked at the hotel that night after dinner, watching Fitz turn the card over in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not sure," Fitz said. "Not right now. I've got so many other things on my mind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like my beautiful face?" Hunter teased, and then gave Fitz a shy, apologetic smile. They were still trying to act like nothing had happened, that they hadn't finally admitted something was between them, because Fitz was still married and hadn't made a decision about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Exactly like your beautiful face, actually."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were carelessly blowing past ignoring the situation, and Fitz couldn't say he minded. He'd careen right into oblivion with Hunter if it meant he got to spend more time with him, unrestrained and free to do as they pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Between </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and work, and finding out I'm not Alistair Fitz's son, I'm at my limit. I can't handle anything else happening."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not sure you’re in control of that, but you don’t have to do anything about </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> until you’re ready, so at least that’s one thing off your mind.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I appreciate that. It's nice to know I have someone in my corner at least through all of this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You do," Hunter agreed, "for as long as you want me there."</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter and Fitz went to Jemma and Daisy’s place once they’d arrived in London on Sunday night. They had a movie night planned, because it was apparently a “travesty” that Fitz had never seen The Princess Bride. There was a group chat formed about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Sunday May 12th, 12:32pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter created a Group Chat</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter changed the name of the Group Chat to What the fuck Fitz</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I’ve just learned that Fitz has never seen the Princess Bride</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>How is that possible? </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I have no idea, that’s absurd</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>We can watch it tonight! I’ll find us a copy!</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I hate this group chat</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>How did you even get each other’s numbers?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Oh baby</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>You know the answer to that</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are! Did the train run late?” Jemma asked as she opened the door for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Hunter had to make a stop first,” Fitz said, gesturing towards Hunter and the bottle of wine he’d brought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s so sweet. Why didn’t you bring me wine?” Jemma asked, stepping back and shooting Fitz a playful look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to buy your affection anymore. You’re stuck with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma sighed. “I wouldn’t say it’s stuck. It’s more like a chosen permanent companionship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s called marriage,” Hunter said, following Fitz and Jemma into the flat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tempt them,” Daisy said from the kitchen. “If there was a way for Fitz and Simmons to officially become Fitzsimmons platonically, they would do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I actually don’t doubt that,” Hunter replied. Fitz tried to elbow him, but Hunter caught his arm and towed him in closer. They looked at each other for a moment, before Hunter let him go with a wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jemma led them into the kitchen where Daisy was plating up four dishes, swaying to the music she always cooked to. Jemma leaned over and kissed Daisy on the cheek and Daisy smiled at her. They were incredibly cute together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Jemma said, “I don’t want to jump over pleasantries before dinner, but please tell me what happened when you talked to your mum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh, I didn’t,” Fitz replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I chickened out. So I -” he paused as she swung around to look at him, hands going to her hips in what he could only call her Disappointed Mum look. “I’m kidding. I talked to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holden Radcliffe is my father,” he said, leaning against the counter beside Daisy. “Apparently my mum fell in love with him and wanted to leave Alistair, but got scared because Alistair Fitz has always been a piece of shit, so she stayed with him until he left. She never told me to protect me in case it got back to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Daisy whispered. “And I thought my family was fucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your family </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucked,” he replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true,” she said, and they traded a smile. He’d always felt a kind of connection with Daisy. “How do you feel about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It makes sense,” he said with a shrug. “It just makes me wonder if maybe Alistair knew, or that he sensed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz, you’re -” Jemma started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, it’s not my fault. That’s not what I’m saying. I just wonder, you know, if Alistair, in some part of him somewhere, looked at me and knew that I was not his. I don’t look enough like my mum to cover up the fact that I don’t look like him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he was just a terrible man who didn’t know anything,” Jemma replied. He chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a little dangerous of a thought pattern, though,” she continued. “It starts with maybe Alistair knew unconsciously, and then you’re dangerously sliding into I deserved it because of my mum’s actions. Just be careful, Fitz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be careful,” he said. “I’ve seen enough therapists to know that even if Alistair knew something was up, his actions were his own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Let’s eat some pasta and play some games, so we can settle once and for all that I am superior at Game Night,” Jemma said, and Fitz immediately made a noise of protest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see who is superior, and we will see that it is me.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>London's production site was separate from their research and corporate office, but Fitz spent as much time as he could between meetings and traveling in Jemma's lab. He'd finally met Bobbi Morse, who was a spitfire of a woman that Fitz was immediately terrified of. He'd been flirting with her ex-husband for weeks now, and he was convinced she would know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She knows because I told her," Hunter said in the car to the production site on Tuesday. They'd had lunch with Daisy, Bobbi, and Jemma at Hunter's favorite place in London, and then they were off to an afternoon of inspection and discussion. "You know I talk to her, right? About everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that a problem? That I have a friendship with my ex-wife?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, not at all," Fitz said quickly. "I quite like Bobbi, actually. She's kind of exactly who I would picture your ex-wife as."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked at him with a raised eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? She's stunning, intelligent, and funny."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She is," Hunter said cautiously as if he didn't quite want to agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And so are you, Hunter. Of course, you'd have been married to a woman who looks like a Greek goddess come to life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When you say things like that, it makes it hard to keep my hands to myself, you know," Hunter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're driving; you better keep your hands on the wheel, mister."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sound like Jemma," Hunter muttered, and Fitz smiled at him. "Don't give me that smile, sir. I'm trying to concentrate on the road."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know what you're talking about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That cute, pleased smile on your face. It's adorable and I am only human."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll just cover my face, then. I think I've got a scarf in my bag."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And deprive me of the only joy I have in a day? That's quite cruel of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were just complaining that my smile was distracting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It can be both distracting and cruel of you to hide it away."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're adorable," Hunter sighed. "You're the absolute cutest. I thought that from that first day when I knocked you over at the elevator."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You remember that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How could I forget?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz considered that, considered how Hunter had a different memory of their time together but he still </span>
  <em>
    <span>remembered</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Grant often forgot how they met, said they’d met in a bar, or at a bookstore, and Fitz would have to gently remind him they met at a cafe. But Hunter somehow remembered a moment where they slammed into each other, didn’t introduce themselves, barely spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Fitz said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been a very good boy not hitting on you since that day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You looked absolutely stunning at that elevator, Fitz. And not to be too forward, but you didn’t look too bad underneath me either,” Hunter teased, winking at him playfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fitz admonished him gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m kidding. Sort of. You did look good underneath me, but you look good anytime so that would be a given.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to have to learn how to behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never behaved before in my life. Why would I start now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled, and settled into his seat, pleased. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Thursday, Fitz and Hunter spent the morning at the production site, and headed for lunch together at noon. It was the one lunch hour that week that they were spending alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know the best fish and chips place,” Hunter promised with one of Fitz's favorite smiles, leading Fitz down the sidewalk from where they'd parked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the best </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> place. Do you know a mediocre place? A bad place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to take you to someplace mediocre or worse? Do you want to get food poisoning from fish tacos?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's not what I'm saying. How do you know so many places? Do you not ever make dinner for yourself? Do you not know how to cook or something?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, don't insult me while I'm protecting your life," Hunter said. "I'll just let you get shot if someone takes aim."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you wouldn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter scoffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You watch it, mister, you're on thin ice. I'll leave you here to fend for yourself while I go get food, and then not bring you home any."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You literally would not. You'd feel bad and turn around and get me some anyway. You have a soft spot for me, Lance Hunter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, of course, big scary Lance Hunter. I'm intimidated by your presence."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter reached over and tickled his side. Fitz tried not to cackle, and ended up giggling as he fell into Hunter's side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're cute," Hunter breathed, stilling his fingers. "You're cute enough I'd never do anything to hurt you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz tipped his head back and looked up at Hunter, breath catching as Hunter looked down at him with those sparkling brown eyes. He couldn't describe the expression in his eyes, but he felt it echoed in his chest, radiating throughout his body until it was all he could feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, and considered for a moment kissing Hunter then. It would be so easy, and he knew Hunter wanted it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter's eyes flicked away, and he tensed up, hand moving to Fitz's upper arm to steer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Fitz started to ask, but Hunter's breath caught and he gently pushed Fitz behind a car nearby. Fitz looked around wildly, trying to spot a danger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunshot that immediately followed was a good indicator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter threw himself against Fitz, curling them both down, protecting Fitz with his body. There was another echoing gunshot and Fitz couldn't breath, panic hot and sharp in his chest. Hunter pulled out the gun he carried on his hip, and gestured Fitz back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Head that way,” Hunter muttered, pushing him towards the back of the car away from the gunshot. When Fitz stayed still, frozen, Hunter squeezed his arm and said, "you'll be okay, Leo. I'm right here. Go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter shook the gun at him gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be okay. Go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed directions, scooching back quietly. There were screams and panic all around, and the sound of sirens in the distance. Another gunshot fired, closer to him, and Hunter reached out to grab his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, never mind. Come here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Fitz back towards him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I really don't want to die here," Fitz said without thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not going to die, Leo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter leaned into him for a second to press a kiss into Fitz’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He peeked up over the car’s trunk, and immediately leaned out to fire a shot at the assailant. Fitz whimpered and covered his ears. The sirens grew louder and louder until they were deafening, and Fitz couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He leaned towards Hunter like a kid hiding behind his mum’s legs, scared and weak. There was shouting from unfamiliar voices, commands to drop it, and Fitz held his breath to keep from crying. Hunter crouched down next to him and wrapped him in his arms, moving his hands away from his ears so Fitz could hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you, Fitz. I’ve got you. No one can hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz felt Hunter’s hands on his back, on his arms, tracing his sides and down his legs, his mouth soft against his temple, words a continuous stream of promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone okay over here?” a voice asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter let him go to speak to the man. Fitz heard words like Shield security, bodyguard, target. There was a shuffle of movement that drew his eye, Hunter taking credentials out of his pocket to pass over. The man with him was a police officer, glancing at Fitz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s in shock, but he’s not injured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll need your full statements when he’s able.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re due back in the US on Sunday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop in to the office before Sunday, ask for Hardy,” the man said, passing over a business card. “Do you need any escort?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahhh, no. I’ve got it from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did good, Agent Hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter stepped back to Fitz and guided him up gently by his elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going back to the hotel. I have to call the head of security here in London and Gonzales. And I’m going to have to increase security, which I know you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Fitz forced out. “You’ll still be here, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours, Fitz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled and let his hand slip down Fitz’s arm to take his hand, fingers slotting together, a promise in itself.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter spent a few hours on the phone, while Fitz had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, curling up on Hunter’s bed. Hunter paced while he talked, and would occasionally stop to touch Fitz, as if assuring himself he was unharmed. It was a soft touch, fingertips against his hip or a brush down his arm. Fitz let out a quiet breath with each one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir. I’ll report to your office Monday as soon as we’re in,” Hunter said before he hung up and set his phone down on the bedside table. He crawled onto the bed and sat next to Fitz who sat up finally, hands still trembling a little. "We're increasing your security. There's a Shield Labs officer down in the lobby, and there will be one for the rest of our trip. We're not sure who the gunman is yet, but the police, and the head of security here in London seems to believe that he has connections to Hydra Tech. But you are safe now, Fitz."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Fitz said quietly. There was a documentary playing, Hunter had put it on for Fitz, but the volume was low enough he could still be heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to thank me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were prepared to take a bullet for me. You were prepared to shoot someone for me,” Fitz breathed out, “and I barely deserved it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hunter said, shaking his head. “No, you do. You’re a good person, Fitz. You’ve done nothing to deserve this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, I didn’t do anything. I was frozen. I was completely useless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a perfectly normal reaction, Fitz. You followed directions, and you’re safe. That’s not useless. You were wonderful today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said, but slowed as Hunter moved in closer. “I’m - what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your breathing and your heart beat spiked. Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t answer. He could feel it, the unsteadiness, the fear, the shake in his hands and limbs like he was falling apart. He couldn’t do anything about it, or speak against it, but he felt it bright and burning inside of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Hunter said so gently that Fitz barely heard him but let himself be guided into Hunter’s arms, snuggled tightly into his side. It was safe, and warm, warmer than the panic brewing inside him, and he let out a slow breath. “There we go. See. You’re safe. You survived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I survived because of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well, sometimes we need a little bit of help. It’s alright to ask for help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz tipped his head back and this time, he didn’t second guess himself. He leaned up into Hunter, and kissed him. Their lips slotted together, and Fitz couldn’t believe he’d ever done anything else in his life. This is where he belonged, and he never should have denied himself that. He made a noise into Hunter’s mouth, reaching up and curling a hand against Hunter’s neck.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love,” Hunter said, kissing the corner of Fitz’s mouth sweetly, “are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t - I could have died, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> could have died today. I don’t want to wait.” Hunter stroked his fingers over Fitz’s jaw, kissing along his cheek lightly. “I don’t want to let you go, or lose you, without trying, without -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Hunter agreed. “Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands slid down Fitz’s sides and over his ass, guiding him into his lap. Fitz sank into him, and groaned quietly into the kiss. He gripped Hunter’s shirt, holding himself close to Hunter, as close as he could be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure?” Fitz asked in return, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “I didn’t ask before I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to,” Hunter said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” Fitz asked anyway for his own peace of mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please. And don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz leaned Hunter back into the pillows and kissed him, sliding his tongue along Hunter’s lower lip. In response, Hunter let out a noise Fitz would think about for years following. Leaned into each other, Fitz explored Hunter’s chest with eager hands, pushing his hands up underneath Hunter’s shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I take your shirt off?” Hunter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, Hunter and Fitz pulled Fitz’s shirt up and over his head. Hunter sighed, and touched him slowly, carefully, almost reverently. He touched the nearly faded but lingering mark Grant had left just above his collarbone without making a comment, and turned his attention back to the rest of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s certainly much better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?” Fitz asked, kissing Hunter’s jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, yes. You’re so beautiful. Look at you. Look at you, Fitz. Finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all to myself,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. Then he paused, looking at Fitz. “Do you want me to call you Leo, or Fitz?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Fitz said. “I hadn’t thought about it. I guess I’m not actually a Fitz, huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can still be Fitz, if you want. You can be whoever you want. You were raised Leo Fitz, so if you want to keep the name Fitz, no one would blame you for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz touched Hunter’s collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You called me Leo earlier,” he said carefully, considering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t hate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to try it out? And then you can decide.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. We can try it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a quiet groan already, and kissed Hunter slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I really don’t hate the way you say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He pressed into Fitz, and brushed a thumb over his nipple, drawing a quiet gasp from him. “Do you like that, Leo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, should I keep going? Take your pants off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter scooped Fitz up by the back of his thighs and flipped them over so Fitz lay on his back underneath Hunter. He slipped his hands to Fitz’s waist and started with his waistband, teasing fingers along his stomach and hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are incredibly beautiful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a breath and chuckled a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? You are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, it's just an extremely Lance Hunter thing to say right now, and it's - it's good. I like being here with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed him again, hands deftly pushing Fitz's sweatpants off his hips but leaving the boxers behind. Fitz wouldn't have complained if they both went, personally, as long as Hunter's went too. Hunter sat up long enough to toss away Fitz's pants and then his own shirt finally. Fitz touched his warm chest, remembering the night in New York with the water rolling down his abs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I touch you?" Hunter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz almost said that Hunter didn't have to ask, but instead he breathed out a "god, yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter grinned and shifted so he was laying alongside Fitz instead of hovering over him, and he kissed Fitz like they had all the time in the world. He started running fingertips along the obvious line of Fitz's erection in his boxers, his tongue tracing along his lower lip and slipping into Fitz's mouth. Fitz explored his chest and waist with his hands, with free reign now that Hunter's shirt was gone. He marveled at the muscles he felt underneath his palms, the rough edges of scars from a world too rough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a noise into Hunter's kiss as teasing fingertips turned into Hunter's palm rubbing along his length, a noise he couldn’t control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound so good, baby,” Hunter groaned, breaking the kiss to mouth along Fitz’s jaw. “I can’t wait to show you absolute heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? You like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded enthusiastically, and managed to say, “do you know what else I would like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that, Leo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you put your hand actually on my cock instead of teasing,” Fitz replied. Hunter’s smile turned wicked and he withdrew his hand. Fitz didn’t mean to whine at that, the loss of pressure and friction along his cock, but he’d wanted this so desperately that he didn’t have control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you naked, then, babe,” Hunter said, voice low and husky. He sat up on his knees, and worked on stripping Fitz, and then gloriously, himself. His pants were tossed to the side, and Fitz took a second to admire Hunter’s completely bared body, the way his cock bobbed out of its restraint. He was thicker than Fitz, and Fitz definitely wanted to get his hands, and potentially his mouth, all over that. In the meantime, Fitz took off his wedding ring which felt incredibly heavy on his finger and set it on the bedside table, the period at the end of his decision, the finality clicking into place. He could tell by Hunter’s expression, his eyes tracking his movements, that he hadn’t missed that, but he didn’t comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I want this, I want you, as long as you want this to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure. Come down here, put that body on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hunter wrapped his hand around Fitz's cock, it was with reverence, kissing his jaw and telling him how good he was, how beautiful, how perfect. It was worship rather than utilitarian like Grant's. He didn't ache with each stroke, but whimpered with soft ecstasy. Even Hunter jerking him off felt special, felt right, like no one who had touched him before had deserved to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I put my mouth on your cock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Holy shit, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled as he kissed his lips first, and then left a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. He paused as Fitz took in a breath and it rattled a little on the way in, his stomach trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not scared,” Fitz said before Hunter could ask, “I’m just a little shaky from earlier still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Tell me if you want to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter laid another kiss, this time on his stomach, keeping his gaze on Fitz’s. Each kiss was intentional, one after another leading him down further until he placed one teasingly on the tip of Fitz’s cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve thought about this a sinful amount of times,” Hunter admitted, and he took a moment to give Fitz a few strokes, “about how you’d react to my touch, and what you’re sound like, what you’d taste like. Pictured how you’d let me do this the first time, where, if you’d let me suck you off in the car or if we’d have to wait until we got to the hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took a steady breath to respond and then immediately regretted it as Hunter took him in his mouth without warning. Any response he had was lost to an incredulous, startled moan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span>," was all he could say. He hadn't prepared himself for this. He'd had fantasies about Hunter, sure, but they were more domestic than sexual. He'd been foolish not to picture Hunter on his knees in front of him, quiet for once as he sucked him off. No, Fitz realized, not quiet. Hunter moaned a little with each downstroke, a little noise in the back of his throat that Fitz almost couldn't hear over his own heartbeat, but it was there. "Holy shit, Hunter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was beautiful, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, the smallest smile even as his lips were stretched around Fitz's cock, bobbing his head perfectly along his length. When he looked up at Fitz, Fitz could have died right there. Hunter liked to go on about how hot he was, self-confidence never in short supply, but Fitz might shatter at how unfairly and unjustly attractive he was in that moment. There was an almost inhuman sparkle in his eyes, something otherworldly and supernatural. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz touched his cheek, unable to stop himself, just to see if he was real, that this moment was happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can’t possibly be real,” he breathed out, and Hunter winked at him before pulling off with an almost obscene noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m real. This is happening. You aren’t imagining this,” Hunter replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought for a minute there that I couldn’t possibly have survived, and that this is some between death hallucination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you die, you want to hallucinate me sucking you off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I wouldn’t complain if my last moments were this room, you and me, with or without the blowjob, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his hip bone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re incredibly sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He propped his head up on one hand, watching Fitz while he skirted the other hand up his thigh and wrapped around his cock, stroking him slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to keep going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want,” Fitz said, pausing for a moment. Hunter looked at him without interrupting. “I want you inside of me. I want you to fuck me into the mattress and, what did you say earlier, show me absolute heaven.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter surged up and kissed him deep and unending. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask you one last time,” Hunter asked, “are you sure this is what you want? We can’t go back after this. You can’t take this back once we go any farther, Leo. You, you can’t undo this and what it’ll do to your marriage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure. I, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted Grant,” Fitz said quietly. “I’ve never felt more right than when I’m with you, and I know that sounds like an out given that I almost died, and you almost died, but I’ve felt it since we met. And I’m not sure that I care about my marriage right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter considered him for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He sat up, sitting up away from Fitz, settling between Fitz’s legs for a moment. “Let me get something from my bag. Get as comfortable as you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz watched Hunter climb off the bed, admiring his ass as he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t sound like you’re getting comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m definitely plenty comfortable with a view like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter gave him a look over his shoulder before shuffling through his suitcase. It was wonderfully familiar, and Fitz wanted to climb out of bed and press himself up against Hunter's back. He wanted to wrap his arms around his waist and kiss his shoulder. He wanted to feel Hunter's warmth all along him, feel the way he breathed, the beat of his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You making eyes at me, Leo?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can't help it. You're absolutely gorgeous and I am a mere human."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here we go," Hunter said, taking out a bottle of lube from his bag and walking back over. Fitz sat up and shuffled to greet him at the edge of the mattress. He held out his hand to Hunter and Hunter took it. "Hey cutie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kiss me," Fitz said, and Hunter obliged him. Fitz let his hands run down Hunter's chest to his waist, then wrapped around his cock finally. He swallowed the shocked moan Hunter let loose and enjoyed the way his cock fit in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Warn a guy next time," Hunter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fun there,” Fitz replied. “I like the noises you make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stroked Hunter easily, kissing down his neck, so he could feel the hitch in Hunter’s breath against his lips with each kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That feels good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell, of course, it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sighed happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we,” Hunter said and cut himself off with a little sigh of his own with Fitz’s next stroke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we continue?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Sorry. Let’s -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter slipped his hands underneath Fitz’s thighs and used his own weight against him to lean him into the mattress, wrapping Fitz’s leg around his waist. He ground their hips together, and they both groaned into each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize,” Hunter said. “I don’t mind a few detours. Felt good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feels really good,” he echoed. He lost himself to Hunter for a few minutes, skirting his mouth over Hunter’s body wherever he could reach. He wanted to trace Hunter all over, taste every bit of him, explore wherever he could. “Hunter, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going,” Hunter said, and there was a moment where he wasn’t directly against Fitz which he didn’t like. Hunter shifted Fitz’s legs open further, and leaned over to kiss the inside of his thigh. “Relax, gorgeous. I’ll take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he replied, watching his partner carefully. Hunter kept kissing along his thigh while he worked Fitz open with skilled, confident fingers. There was no discomfort, only anticipation, desire coursing through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready, love?” Hunter asked, stroking his thumb lovingly along Fitz’s skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, god, yes, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his stomach as he withdrew his fingers, adjusting them again so he was comfortable between Fitz’s legs, Fitz’s thighs bracketing his hips. He didn’t make a show out of anything like Fitz had expected, slicking his cock with efficiency and care before pressing into his entrance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wonderful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pretty,” Fitz replied, and Hunter laughed. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Hunter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kept moving, sliding further and further into Fitz, while they talked, and it was incredibly nice to have this kind of intimacy with someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what did you do today, dear?” Hunter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know, work stuff,” Fitz replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything exciting happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing that comes to mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I did meet this gorgeous guy,” Fitz said, touching Hunter’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah? You going to call him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thinking about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed him, and Fitz held his jaw for that brief moment. When he started moving, shallow thrusts at first, Fitz couldn’t keep his hands still, or his mouth quiet. He wasn’t usually vocal in bed, but he could be with Hunter, it seemed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It helped that with every moan, Hunter had some quiet praise for him, telling him how good he sounded, how beautiful he was, how wonderful he felt around him. Fitz could stay in this moment forever, he was sure, pleasure starting to build like a bonfire in his belly, Hunter equally hot against him. He tipped his head back with the next push in, this one nearly brushing his prostate, and Hunter left a kiss on his Adam's apple, sweet and delicate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rocked together like promises, holding each other close so the other wouldn't float away. When their gazes met, Fitz couldn't breathe with how intimate it all was, the adoration and affection bright in Hunter's eyes, and he could only imagine what Hunter was seeing in his own expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn't take long for his orgasm to build, and he whimpered out, "fuck, I'm so close."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good," Hunter said, thrusts speeding up, harder and deeper, drawing cut-off moans and trailing curses from Fitz. "Come for me, Leo. Show me how good you feel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz loved the way Hunter said his name like that, soft, his accent curling it. There was something sensuous and sweet about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span>," he said on a breath out before he broke apart, orgasm white-hot as it rocketed through him. He pulled Hunter down to kiss, wanting to be as close as possible while he trembled, making an absolute mess of them as he came. Hunter chuckled, and kissed him all over his face with quick, individual kisses. Fitz didn't have the mental capacity to ask what he was laughing at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're so fucking beautiful, Leo. So beautiful."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rocked into Fitz slower, bringing him down slowly from the high, until he was whimpering again, oversensitive and overstimulated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good boy," Hunter muttered, kissing his chest as he pulled out carefully. His hand slipped down to his cock, grasping it before setting a quick pace. Fitz watched for a moment, fascinated with how Hunter pleasured himself compared to how he pleasured Fitz, before he remembered he had a hand, and a mouth, and Hunter did not have to do this himself. Fitz sat up and nudged Hunter to lay back on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let me," he said, before taking over stroking him. He didn't try to replicate Hunter's desperate motions, but instead worked at his own pace, somewhere in between. He wasn't an expert, Grant preferred his mouth over his hands, but he was proficient in being a quick study. And he'd gladly study Hunter for the rest of his life. He watched Hunter's reactions, the way he'd gasp, head falling back, mouth open, hips stuttering as he tried to keep still. "You can fuck my hand if you need. Take whatever you need, baby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter was practically nonverbal, only pants and groans escaping him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leo," he whined, hips snapping up to meet his hand. He could tell Hunter was close, his breathing ragged, fists clenching the blanket below him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want to come?" Fitz asked, and Hunter nodded frantically. He considered Hunter for a minute, keeping his pace steady, meeting Hunter's shaking hips as he fucked up into Fitz's hands. "You are such a good boy, behaving for me, letting me touch you like this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leo</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused before leaning in and nipping at Hunter's jaw a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, then, Lance. Come for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter curled into Fitz, turning onto his side a little to be as close as he could, and gasped out his name like it was the only word he knew, hands coming up to grab his arms. He anchored himself to Fitz as Fitz eased him through his orgasm and back down. Hunter lay panting against him, eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit, love," Hunter said. Fitz chuckled and looked down at the mess they'd made, cum spilled on hands and chests, but found for a moment he didn't care. He leaned over and kissed Hunter once. "Any regrets?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"None here," Fitz replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good, me neither."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laid down next to him, sticky hand rest on his chest, and Hunter looked at him through satisfied, sleepy blinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hold on," he said, pushing up and climbing off the bed, headed for the bathroom. Fitz waited and he came back with a wet washcloth. He took Fitz's hand and cleaned that first, delicately wiping down his fingers without scraping or hurting him. Then he wiped away the cum splattered against his belly. "Better?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Much, actually."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't like being dirty," Hunter said when Fitz looked at him with surprise. "I assumed being covered in drying cum would make you uncomfortable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It does. How did -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I pay attention to you, you know. I notice when you're uncomfortable, or when you're upset. Like, we had tacos for dinner the other night, and you got grease and guacamole all over your hands, and you were cranky about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not cranky."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter chuckled, and flipped the washcloth to the clean side before wiping at himself. Fitz watched the way the washcloth pushed into his stomach, a water drop escaping with the pressure and let out a breath. Hunter quirked an eyebrow at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Already?" He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Fitz said, blushing, even as his cock was clearly stirring for a second round. "Maybe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter grinned and started for the bathroom, before looking over his shoulder at Fitz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you coming?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz flung himself gracelessly off the bed and followed Hunter in, muttering more to himself than anyone else, "oh god, I hope so."</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Thursday May 16th, 5:26pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Bus Kids</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I'm okay</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Not sure what you've heard or how fast gossip gets around the London office, but I'm safe </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: Jemma made me not contact you first because I was freaking out</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: Do you want to talk about it?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz:</b>
  <span> No, I'm good. Hunter's here.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Hunter's okay, too?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Yeah we made out</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Made it out</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>😳</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>Did you make out?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>You hooked up with Hunter?!</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>Fitz</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma</b>
  <span>: Leopold James Fitz</span>
</p><p><b>Fitz: </b><span>I'll</span> <span>talk to you later</span></p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Use protection!</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He woke up slowly the next morning, and when he finally cracked an eye open, the warm sunshine met him. Hunter's body was hot against his back, arm over his waist like a weighted blanket. It was almost heavenly with how comfortable the bed was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he saw the time. It was nearing ten AM.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit!" he nearly screeched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wha?" Hunter grumbled, and it was almost cute enough to calm Fitz's nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We slept in, and now I'm late," Fitz said, trying to extract himself from Hunter's limbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm, no," Hunter said. He blinked sleepily at him, before pointing at his phone. "I saw an email this morning from the head of security here. Your meetings and shift have been cancelled until they confirm no other players are involved with yesterday's shooter. Now come back down here and snuggle."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz frowned and took his phone off the charger to look through his emails. Sure enough, Tomas Calderon, the head of London's security, had emailed him early that morning to cancel his shift at the office. He was apparently more than welcome to work remotely from the hotel, but they encouraged him to take the day off entirely to recover from the event. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I noticed you haven't come down here to snuggle," Hunter said, voice a pleasant creaking rumble still. Fitz chuckled and leaned into him to kiss him. Hunter, in turn, made a quiet, pleased hum that echoed in Fitz. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Better than expected."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let himself be tucked back into Hunter's chest, and Hunter rewarded him with a kiss between the shoulder blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good. You needed the rest," Hunter said. Some part of him was aglow with this affection. "You're an oven at night, did you know that? You're incredibly hot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz hummed, settling in, ready to go back to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean, of course, you're hot," Hunter continued, "but I mean like, you're a whole ass bonfire when you sleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it. When Jemma used to sleep in bed with him after events or long study sessions, she'd wake him up by throwing off the covers and complaining loudly in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hunter, love,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come down here and shush so I can sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sassy in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz hummed and pulled Hunter closer by the arm closest to him until Hunter was molded to his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with what had happened the afternoon before, Fitz felt so safe here with Hunter that he wasn't worried about anyone getting him. He closed his eyes and let himself start to fall asleep when his stomach rumbled noisily. Hunter chuckled against his shoulder blades and sat up behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's get you some food."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up reluctantly, rewarded as Hunter kissed Fitz's shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you know a good place?” Fitz asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you feel like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm, you got a crepe place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crepes? Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Or whatever you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, crepes are good. Sweet or savory?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter tipped his chin towards him and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re incredible. Give me a few minutes, I’ll find something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz watched him sort through the blankets until he found his own phone, which Fitz was sure he hadn’t charged the night before. He glanced over at Fitz and gave him one of his patented winks. Fitz wanted nothing more than to push Hunter back onto the mattress and lose himself for the day, but he really did need to eat something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed himself off the bed and found his boxers near the bed, pulling them on and heading for the bathroom. He wished, looking in the mirror, that there was some evidence of what they'd done together. Even if he was going home to Grant, he wanted the world to know that Hunter had him, that Hunter was his and he was Hunter's. But Hunter had been polite and hadn't left any marks that couldn't wash off in the shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought crossed his mind that Hunter couldn’t leave a mark on him, but he certainly could leave marks on Hunter, but he dismissed it. He wasn’t that possessive that he’d leave a hickey on Hunter.  Unless Hunter asked for it, of course, then Fitz would absolutely leave as many marks on him as he could. Fitz lost himself for a minute while he washed his face and brushed his teeth, imagining all of the stuff he and Hunter could get up to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he stepped out of the bathroom, Fitz found Hunter browsing on his phone, still absolutely naked the way Fitz had left him. Fitz stopped in front of him and Hunter tipped his head up, inviting a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, I was thinking, do you want Jemma and Daisy to come visit?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought maybe I’d - I don’t know. I thought I wouldn’t be able to really do anything now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be a bit more cautious where you go, but I’m not going to prevent you from seeing your best friends, babe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter curled his hands around Fitz's hips and pulled him closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want them to come visit?" Hunter asked again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would," Fitz agreed. "I'd like to see them, but -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But what? What is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to lie to them if they ask about us," Fitz said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why would they - do they know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I might be a little obvious about you, and my feelings for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I've talked to both Jemma and Daisy about you. I, it's hard to keep that to myself. It's hard to keep you to myself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wouldn't mind being all yours, kept or not," he said softly, a gentle, fond teasing in his voice that Fitz was used to, and adored about him. It made him feel warm, that familiar feeling like he was entirely special in the world. Fitz kissed him and invited himself into Hunter's lap, sinking his hands into Hunter's hair. When they finally broke apart, Hunter let his forehead rest against Fitz's collarbone. "Do you think they'll mind this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think that they want me to be happy. Jemma said I had to decide what I wanted, and I want you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah? You sure?" Fitz hummed his assent and kissed Hunter's forehead. "I'll let the guards know they'll be coming over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. You’re sure, before I call them and invite them, that you’re okay with telling them?” Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would shout from the rooftop right now that I made Leopold Fitz come several times in one night if I could,” Hunter said. “I’d march into your apartment and tell Grant to fuck off if I could. But it’s always been up to you what we do, Fitz. So, do you want to tell them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then yes, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, cool,” Fitz said, stroking his thumb over Hunter’s cheekbone. “Do you know that you’re beautiful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach rumbled again, louder, and more insistent, as he went to kiss him again, addicted now that they’d started. It was like getting a taste of ambrosia, he suspected, and never wanting to go back again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, let’s get you some food, mister, before you waste away. Can’t let you starve on my watch. What kind of bodyguard would I be? What kind of lover?” He tossed that last bit in casually as he turned and plopped Fitz back onto the bed, letting him lay out over the mattress while Hunter went back to his phone. “Okay, let’s see, I found a pretty decently reviewed place that my mate Quincy went to a few weeks back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s hand drifted back to him absently, tracing up and down his arm. They worked through the menu, Hunter’s fingers still moving along his skin while Fitz found his own phone to contact the girls.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Friday May 17th, 9:58 am</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Bus Kids</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Okay, I have the OK for you to come visit if you want</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Yes</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I thought you might say that</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I have a lot of questions and I will not settle until you’ve answered them</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>And you know what these questions are.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I have suspicions</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Are you going to tell me the truth when I ask them?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I won’t lie to you, if that’s what you’re worried about. If you’d prefer not to know so you don’t have to lie to anyone else, I won’t let you, but if you ask…. I won’t lie</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Oh</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>My</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>God</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I didn’t think it would be that easy</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>You have something to tell us, don’t you? That slip last night!</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I’ll send you the hotel’s address, just let me know when you’re coming, so I can let security know. We can talk when you get here.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I love you, be safe</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When they arrived, Hunter was just getting dinner from the deliveryman in the lobby, and escorted them up to the room. They’d spent the day eating their brunch crepes, and drinking tea that Hunter brewed for them, and watching documentaries on whatever was on the History Channel. He’d dressed when Hunter had grabbed their brunch earlier in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that might be Hunter’s instead of his own, and was lounging on the mattress with his cup of tea against the pillows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz!” Jemma said, hurrying over to the bed and flinging herself into the mattress. He held the cup up to keep it from spilling. “Oh, sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said, and leaned over to set the cup on the bedside table, and lifted his arm so she could snuggle under it and into her side. They’d done this for years, since they were sixteen and they were each other's anchors in a new terrifying world. It was comfort, and home, and warmth, every good little thing in the world tucked together under a blanket and shared with his other half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No offense to Hunter, of course, but no one else was Jemma Simmons. They were known as Fitzsimmons for a reason, two halves of a single coin, or “two halves of a whole idiot” as Daisy had always said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, hogging him already,” Daisy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already? I had him first, technically,” Jemma replied. “And you’re welcome to join us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Daisy said, and she kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, literally climbing over Jemma and Fitz to get to his other side. “Okay, I’m better now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled and looked over at Hunter who was setting the bag of food on the table, and he let himself look for a moment, enjoying the way his t-shirt fit against his shoulders and hugged his sides, and the way his jeans showed his beautiful ass. Daisy nudged him with her elbow and raised her eyebrows suggestively, to which he rolled his own eyes back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got you some dinner, too,” Fitz said instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Hunter said that when we met downstairs. That’s really sweet,” Jemma said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ve made us food at the apartment. This is as much as we can do to return the favor right now,” Fitz replied. Jemma squeezed Fitz’s wrist where he had his arm around her. “Although, according to him, Hunter claims he’s a great cook. Conveniently, I’ve never seen him in the kitchen, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve literally stayed in hotels since we met,” Hunter said. “You couldn’t have seen me in a kitchen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhm,” Fitz said, “a likely story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A likely story!” Hunter scoffed. “Just you wait. I’m going to bring you lunch while we’re back home, a home cooked, from scratch meal that will shut that attitude right up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d certainly like to see you back up your boasts for once,” Fitz challenged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter peeked over his shoulder at him with a cocked eyebrow, and Fitz knew that face already, the cocksure grin that sent a thrill through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey," Daisy said, "you're okay, right? I know you didn't get hurt, but are you alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm good," Fitz said. "I think. Hunter's very good at his job, so I have less to worry about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good thing they gave you a good security officer and not a shitty one," Daisy said. "And one so nice to look at."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked over his shoulder at her and winked, which made her giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Although, if they'd have assigned Tripp, I certainly wouldn't have minded," she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tripp is dreamy," Jemma agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Fitz said, "a little too straight for my tastes, but -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off as Hunter turned around and put his hands on his hips, eyebrow cocked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's that, then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, don't get jealous," Fitz said. "It's not like you don't know he's attractive. You introduced him as the legacy hunk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, it's certainly true."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why would you be jealous, Hunter?" Daisy asked, and Fitz rolled his eyes at her again, unable to help himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not terribly subtle, Daise," Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You told me I could ask questions, and you wouldn't lie. I'm not trying to be subtle here. Not that Mr. Heart Eyes and Mr. Can't Keep His Hands to Himself have any room to talk," she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, am I Heart Eyes or Can't Keep His Hands to Himself?" Hunter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's what you're focusing on?" Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm curious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're clearly Mr. Can't Keep His Hands to Himself," Fitz replied easily. Hunter turned and grabbed two plates, holding one out to Jemma and one out to Daisy. They took them with their sweet graciousness, and tucked into dinner, thankfully distracted for a moment. Hunter held out a plate for Fitz as well, a pleased smile on his face. "Thank you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, it's no problem, love," Hunter said, and Fitz could see the effort not to kiss Fitz. Since they'd started the night before, it was wonderfully difficult not to pull the other close for long, marvelous kisses. Fitz let his gaze linger on Hunter's, satisfied with this moment here. Hunter grabbed his plate and came back to the bed, sinking opposite of them at the foot of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How was work today?" Fitz asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The usual," Jemma said. "I'm getting close to finishing the project Bobbi and I have been working on, and we'll be presenting the findings to the research board to greenlight further, more expensive research. Which is wonderful and terrifying."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wish I could be there to watch the research board try and say no when you present. You know the board hates approving stuff."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's why we're not giving them the opportunity."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nudged her playfully with his elbow like they used to at school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Any cyber robbers trying to steal Shield secrets that you thwarted?" Fitz asked Daisy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. Nothing exciting. I mostly ran systems updates throughout the company, which are never fun but necessary. Plus I did some overtime as an IT representative because one of our cyber security was down with the flu."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you enjoy your firsthand experience with troubleshooting?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hated it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz had been asked to fill in with customer service troubleshooting during a device launch a few years back, and he'd absolutely hated it, had sworn he was never going back. People were rude and aggressive, and assumed he didn't know what he was talking about. He had a PhD and he was being told daily that he had no idea how the device worked. His favorite experience was a man who called him a fuck-waffle twat-swatch, whatever the fuck that meant, and that he should go fuck himself with the device. That was a wonderful day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, stop stalling," Daisy said after they'd had their fill of food. "What's going on with you two?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, well," Fitz said, looking over at Hunter who nodded, "we're together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Jemma asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For real?" Daisy asked at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, absolutely," Hunter said. "We talked about how we liked each other, and then yesterday, with the shooting, it didn’t make sense to dance around it. If life could be cut short at any time, we don’t want to waste what time we have together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span> together?” Daisy asked. “No holds, no reservations, you’ve talked about it and this is what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Fitz said. “We’ve talked about it, and we’re both aware of the consequences and the complications. We’re handling that, but we know that we want to handle that together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled at him and reached out for him. Fitz slid their fingers together, and squeezed, warmed at the easy way they could touch now, unworried, unbothered that someone might find out. He moved so he was sitting beside Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re happy with this?” Jemma asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. Happier than I’ve been in, well, five years, I’d say,” Fitz replied. “You know my marriage with Grant hasn’t been easy, especially recently. I’ve been coming to the realization that I can’t just stay in my marriage because it’s convenient, when everything Grant does and wants doesn’t fit with what I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jemma nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand that. And I know you’ve been trying to make it work, but some things are just not worth saving. I’ve always told you that I want you to be happy, and that I’ve never liked Grant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I do like Hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter grinned at that, and Fitz felt that beautiful warmth he was getting used to bloom fresh in his chest, their familiarity with each other, their friendship starting strong. It was a contrast that he was delighted existed, so sharp from that of Jemma and Grant’s friendship, always terse and stoic, transactional instead of genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hunter said, his phone buzzing in his pocket, sandwiched between their touching thighs. “Hold on. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took out his phone and answered it, rising up off the bed to walk away from them as much as the room allowed. Fitz let his gaze follow him, pleased that he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re Heart Eyes, by the way,” Daisy said. He’d assumed. He knew what his face did around Hunter. It was a wonder the whole world didn’t know already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you, are you okay with this? Does this make you think less of me?” Fitz asked, turning his attention back to her and Jemma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay with it because he clearly makes you really happy. You got shot at yesterday, and today you’re smiling, and joking, and light. It’s nice to see you like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plus,” Daisy said, “we don’t have any room to talk or judge you on this one, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that mean?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, ahh, when Daisy and I met, and started hanging out, and talking, Daisy had a boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name was Miles. He was a part of that hacker organization we don’t talk about for legal reasons, and we were together for a couple years when I met Jemma. I didn’t realize that I was into women, not that way at least, when I met her, and the feelings I had for her caught me off guard, so when I saw the opportunity to kiss her, I couldn’t deny myself that. I didn’t think about Miles at all when I was with her. Just like now, the world doesn’t exist outside of the two of us when we’re together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you were okay with that? Daisy having a boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I also didn’t expect to fall in love with Daisy that way, but I did, and I couldn’t help it. She was so beautiful, and sweet, and she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>Milton</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Milton</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I broke it off with Miles, but we’d already been on a few dates, and slept together at that point. So, like I said, no room to throw stones here, or whatever. Besides, like Jemma said, my goal in this friendship is to make sure you’re happy, and healthy, and taken care of, and that your man is treating you right. And, I know Grant. I know him, and you, and I was honestly surprised when he proposed. He’s not good for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you say anything then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We weren’t as close, it would have been weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And after?" Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If he stepped out of line, if he hurt you or got, you know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grant</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it, I would have stepped in. I wouldn't have let you get hurt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I appreciate that," Fitz said. "He's never hurt me, not like, anyway, but I know after everything that I've tried, he's not willing to change."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Garrett got his claws in deep," Daisy said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That guy weirds me out," Jemma added. "He seems so predatory."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter hung up the phone and came back over to the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have to help the security team we've put in place here, apparently there's some confusion about change over. I'll be in the hotel, just downstairs for a little bit. Call me if you need anything," Hunter said. He didn't even hesitate to lean in and kiss Fitz softly. It was just a small kiss, sweet and chaste, there and then gone. "Don't do anything stupid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't, just gossip and eat too much, probably."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Hunter said. "I won't be long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed Fitz again before leaving them alone in the room, taking one of the keycards and his wallet but leaving his jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You two are disgusting," Daisy said. "I thought me and Jem were bad, but you are sickeningly cute."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know what you mean," he said, even though he could feel his stupid smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've been together, like, twenty-four hours max? It's sick how cute you are already."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, just about a day now," he said, looking down at his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, I have to ask, because I'm super curious, how did it happen?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Daisy," Jemma scolded lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's a big boy, he can talk about his sex life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I highly doubt they've had sex already."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, sweetie," Daisy said. "Of course, they have."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Babe, look at this bed. They absolutely fucked in this bed recently."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jemma turned to look at Fitz who nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, well," Jemma said. "Interesting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How'd it happen?" Daisy repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was a little shook up, and Hunter was being just amazing. Absolutely amazing. And I realized that I didn't want to wait one more minute to finally kiss him, because I could literally die at any moment. Someone wanted to kill me yesterday. Actively, not just grumbling under their breath that they're going to do it. They had a gun and shot it at me, at us. And I couldn't stop myself, and I didn't want to, from just kissing him finally."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nice," Daisy said. He laughed and shook his head, looking at his plate of food still in his lap. "How is he in bed then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my god," Jemma said, standing up off the mattress. "I don't need to hear this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jemma likes to imagine that my marriage is completely celibate for some reason," Fitz said to Daisy. "And that I'm still the quiet virgin she met when we were kids."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's like thinking about my brother having sex," Jemma said. "So, I'm going to use your bathroom and you can talk about that while I do that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They probably fucked in the shower too," Daisy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jemma shut the door behind her and Fitz said, "we actually did."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Naughty boys."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was only comfortable doing this with Daisy, strangely enough. Even with Grant, he felt weird discussing it, what he wanted, what they could try. The only way he'd made it through the Unfortunate Phone Sex incident was because he wasn't paying attention. In the moment, too, he didn't mind saying what he wanted, but in casual discussion, he tried to skirt around it. Except with Daisy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was the best sex I've ever had," he admitted. "Like, miles better than Grant. I felt, I don't know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>or something with Hunter, like he was only there because I was there with him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's good. That's actually what I feel with Jemma," Daisy said. "No one else before her ever made me feel like she does, like comfort and safety and - this is going to sound weird but go with me on it. She feels like hot chocolate?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no, it's not weird. I get it. Hunter feels like a fresh cup of tea."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes! Warm and comforting, or like blankets fresh out of the dryer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I started to realize that I had settled for the first person who came along that liked me, and not necessarily the person who liked me </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>I felt compatible with. There's always been this disconnect between me and Grant that I didn't understand. I tried to cover it with sex and pretending we were okay, this was a phase, it didn't matter that we've never talked about kids or a house or a future because we had time. But I realized, especially once Hunter came into the picture, that he also hasn't even considered it. Not talking about it is one thing but he wasn't curious about the future with me at all, and I - I don't want a future with someone who doesn't want me for the long haul."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Understandable," Daisy said. "Hunter seems to be really good for you. Like, beyond the best sex of your life, he's been supportive, and understanding, and he's really fucking funny, which I did not expect. He can keep up with you, and he doesn't seem to mind your work schedule."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unrelated, he also has an adorable cat named Fig."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you love cats!" Daisy said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I got to hold her and pet her when we picked her up last time," Fitz said. "She's incredibly sweet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you with him just for his cat?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Fitz laughed, "but snuggling with his car is certainly a bonus."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gross," Jemma said, exiting the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A literal cat, Jemma. I'm not making some weird euphemism about his dick."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fitz was just telling me that Hunter makes him feel like freshly washed blankets and a warm cup of tea," Daisy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jenna cooed and fell onto the bed next to her girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's sweet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Plus, here's the real kicker, my mum likes him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit, really?" Jemma asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, Abigail No One Is Good Enough for My Son Except Jemma Simmons Fitz liked him when I brought him with me to meet her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's high praise coming from her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It is. It's been five years and she's not particularly fond of Grant, but Lance Hunter charmed her immediately. It’s really important to me that he gets along with my friends, and my mum, and he’s perfect so of course, he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Daisy chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, almost perfect,” she said. “I seem to recall you saying he has horrendous taste in football teams, or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true, actually, thank you for reminding me. He does have horrendous taste. I don’t understand how a man so perfect can support </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liverpool</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all teams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laughed, and he felt light.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>His dreams that night were heavy, though. Even curled up with Hunter in the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in,  although that could be chalked up entirely to Hunter’s arms around him and nothing about the mattress itself, he felt unsettled. There was something waiting when he closed his eyes, shadows, shapes lingering just out of view, gunshots without source. There was something there, sinister, looming, waiting. He tried to scramble away from it, but he was rooted in place, and the gunshots were getting closer, and Hunter - he couldn’t find Hunter. No matter how he twisted, and called out, and reached for a shape that might be him, it could be, he wasn’t there. He was alone in this inky black room he didn’t recognize, and he couldn’t get out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he breathed, every time he reached out and tried to grasp at something solid, fingers falling short by a breath. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke, it was all at once, jerking awake in the middle of a gasp, just about to finally reach Hunter. He pushed whatever was touching him away, needing to feel free, the panic tight and hot in his chest, gripping his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, and he wanted to run, to hide, to get away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey,” a soft voice came to him from far away.  “Leo, you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to push the blankets off him, scared, and trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” the voice said firmer, and a warm, familiar hand caught his wrist. “Look at me. Love, look at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz’s eyes darted around the dark room until he found Hunter behind him, illuminated from the streetlights outside. His soft brown eyes were kind and worried in the dark, and they settled the coil of anxiety in his chest. Those warm eyes that Fitz loved, looking at him with so much care and concern, settled him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He’d never had someone make him feel like that before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” he said again, and the way his accent smoothed out his name released the last bit of tension in his body. He collapsed into Hunter’s arms and let out a whimper. “Oh, Leo, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Fitz whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have to apologize. You never have to apologize.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just, I just thought - I thought I was okay, that I wouldn’t have - I didn’t even,” he gave up. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Leo,” Hunter said, and kissed his forehead gently. Fitz buried himself in Hunter’s chest, unable to stop trembling, and felt Hunter’s hand curled around the nape of his neck protectively. “You’re alright. I’m here, baby. You’re okay. No one’s going to get you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spoke quietly, just loud enough that Fitz could hear him but not enough that it overwhelmed him. His voice felt like a blanket around his shoulders, fresh from the dryer, a comforting heat constant and even. He spoke in circles, not starting anywhere and not ending anywhere, just meandering lazily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asked later when Fitz had settled down and had lifted his head enough to see Hunter’s face. “You don’t have to, but it helps me when I’m upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not upset,” Fitz grumbled, and Hunter chuckled, kissing his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, sorry,” Hunter said. “Can I tell you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz hummed and nodded, cheek resting against Hunter’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to get a lot of panic attacks when I first got out of the army, and didn’t know how to adjust to civilian life. I took up hikes, but the nights were always the roughest. I couldn’t handle how dark the shadows were, and it was so quiet in my apartment. I was used to the barracks where I shared with several other soldiers, and I could always hear their breathing, their snores, and laying in my empty room, filled with all my darkness and hurt, I kept having nightmares and panic attacks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be. I’m saying that this is perfectly normal, love. You can absolutely break down. You nearly died, you had a traumatic experience and you are reacting to it. That’s completely normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the same thing,” Fitz said, voice quiet. “You were a soldier at war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, a soldier at war, something I signed up for, trained for, and went into knowing that I could die any minute. You’re just a scientist doing his job, trying to do some good in the world, make devices that will help people in the future. You don’t expect to step out of the car and get shot at, and you shouldn’t, obviously, that would be horrendous. That must be so much worse, and I don’t blame you for this reaction. This is completely normal, and I’m here for you, love. Okay? No matter how rough this gets for you, I am here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but you’re not. You trust me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that's the case, then trust me when I say that you are not in any way stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a sigh and tucked his head down against Hunter's chest, closing his eyes. He wanted to shut out the world, everything that reached for him, everything that mocked him. Hunter let him recede without demanding anything from him. Instead, he was steady, his chest rising and falling with his breaths, hand a welcome, constant weight against his neck. His other rested against the small of Fitz's back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz tried to close his eyes and let sleep take him again, but the panic, while subsided, was playing a video against the inside of his eyelids as soon as he tried. The gun shots. The frozen in place fear that had iced his veins. The useless tremble in his body. Hunter pulling him down out of danger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought popped up, unbidden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have let that gunman kill you, it said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be better off if he had, it hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn't have to take care of you like you're some schoolboy scared of the monster under the bed, it continued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise he made in the back of his throat was small, and childish, something a baby might make, and he felt Hunter's hands tighten on him enough to remind him he was safe, that he was alive, that Hunter was choosing to be here, that nothing could get him </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hunter had chosen him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep didn’t come easy, and when it came, the dreams made him jittery and uneasy, waking him every hour or so. Hunter was there every time, sometimes awake, sometimes still asleep, but holding him and protecting him every time. It was quiet in the middle of the night, the world still, only Hunter’s breathing could be heard. He laid in Hunter’s arms, staring up at the ceiling, counting each breath carefully, keeping track until he fell asleep again. When he woke an hour later, he groaned himself awake, and repeated it over and over until the sun came up, warming the bed, their skin, and the cold grip of dread in his throat.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>In the morning, Hunter woke him up gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey love,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Hunter said. “I have to do some work today, go over reports, do some research. Plus, I have breakfast coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want any.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, baby boy, that’s not an option. I got your favorite, though, ham, peppers, and onion omelet with a side of fried potatoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz made a noise of vague interest, but he couldn’t find the energy to be properly excited for anything when he felt so incredibly bone-tired. He hadn’t felt this weary in years, since he’d stay awake working on his dissertation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Hunter asked. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tired. I didn’t sleep well, even in here with you. I just want to sleep forever. I - I don’t have to go into the office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t have to. They’re still looking into the possible connection with Hydra, and don’t want to risk you if they want to try again. We want you to be as safe as possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is flying home going to be okay?” Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we’re working on that. It should be fine, what with airport security being what it is already, but we may have another officer with us on the way to, and another at the airport when we land to escort you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Home?” Fitz asked unbidden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I figured you’d want to go home,” Hunter said slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I don’t want to presume anything. It’s your life here that’ll get turned upside down when we go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Right. My marriage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, yeah, your marriage.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I just don’t go home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And where will you go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, maybe with you,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’m not telling you no, but your husband might have something to say either. And I don’t want the cops banging down my apartment door because he filed you a missing person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He probably wouldn’t,” Fitz muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He probably would,” Hunter replied. “You’re easy to miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter,” Fitz sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it. If I were your husband, I’d miss you if you didn’t come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you were my husband, you wouldn’t have to miss me, because I’d come home to you regardless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter tipped his chin up with a gentle finger underneath his jaw, and met him with a sweet kiss. He let himself relax into it, even though some part of him was on alert and wanted to bolt to safety still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to lay an ultimatum at your feet, because you've been through enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But?" Fitz prompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The very reluctant but here is that, I will gladly share you with him for as long as you need, and I will bow out if you say you've decided to make your marriage work, </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> you need to decide and talk to your husband about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh. Right. Yes. That makes sense. Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz, Leo, you don’t need to apologize. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay, will you be there when I need a place to go after?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. You’re welcome in my bed anytime, love, and in the rest of my house. Fig would be happy to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to see her too,” Fitz said. Hunter’s phone started to ring, and he unfolded himself from Fitz to grab his phone from the bedside table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like breakfast is here. I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed Fitz’s shoulder as he stood up out of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be good,” he said, as if Fitz wanted to get out of bed, let alone get out of bed and then cause trouble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Fitz grumbled and Hunter tipped his head up to kiss him softly. Then, he turned and left the room. Fitz sat up and searched the room for his clothes. Hunter had a tendency to throw his clothes over his shoulder as he undressed him. He got off the bed slowly, lingering at the edge and surveying the room before he decided to find clean clothes from his own room. He left the door open between the two rooms and found a pair of sweatpants he hadn’t worn yet, tucked into the side of his suitcase. He really wanted to go home for the sole reason that he wanted different outfits. They’d used the hotel washer and dryer when it was available so he’d been wearing the same five outfits for almost a month. It would be nice to wear a different pair of jeans, a different combination of slacks and button-down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got dressed in his lounge clothes, not intending on leaving any sooner than he had to. They still had to go to the police station and talk to the cops about what had happened, but until then, he was content staying in bed with Hunter where he could rest and go into a warm blanket cocoon and be protected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz?” Hunter called, a slight edge of concern in his voice, a few minutes later while Fitz was still in his conjoined room, sorting through his bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In here,” he called back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, good," Hunter said. "Breakfast is here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be right there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers brushed the business card his mum had given him. It seemed so long ago now that he'd found out, but it had truly been that week. He looked at the print again, ran his thumb over it. What would he even say to him if he did call?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Holden, it's your son. What the fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hi Dr. Radcliffe, it's Leo Fitz. Your son. Apparently.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he would say. How do you even start that conversation? It was hard enough to talk to his own mother; he didn’t know how he was going to talk to some random stranger whose current connection to him was through blood alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love,” Hunter said, poking his head into the room when he hadn’t moved. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking,” he replied, tucking the card away. “There’s a lot going on all at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hunter said, crossing the room to Fitz’s side, and wrapped his arms around Fitz’s waist. “I’m sorry all of this is happening at once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Fitz said, leaning back into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. I mean, I certainly don’t like getting shot at, but all of that, the threats, the extra security, does mean that we met, and that I have you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s lips found the sensitive part of his neck right below his jawline. Fitz sighed, and relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, love, you need food.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Hunter asked, and Fitz might have snapped at anyone else for asking again, but Hunter’s hand was on the small of his back, and his voice was low, and there was a warmth in his chest with Hunter's presence. Plus, no one else had seen him have a panic attack in the shower the night before they went to the police station. No one else had kissed his forehead and held him without saying a word, no pressure to put himself back together yet, just a statue he could hold himself against.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Fitz said. "I'm okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay. Remember what I said, trust your instincts. If you feel someone looking at you, you let me know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were headed home, starting with a flight from London to New York City, and then from New York to LAX, and they'd be travelling all day. Fitz was never keen on airports and having been shot at several days before had done nothing for his nerves. His saving grace was Hunter’s presence, the hand on his back, the arm brushing against his, the way that Hunter could talk him through anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m right here the entire time,” Hunter reminded him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what was going to get him through this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll definitely feel better once we're in the airport past security," Fitz admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I know. Me too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his temple gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have everything?" Hunter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Fitz said, patting the suitcase he'd just finished packing. "Oh, wait."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He circled the bed and scooped up his wedding ring, abandoned on the bedside table since their first night together. Fitz hadn't even looked at it. He dropped it into his carry-on bag's front pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All set.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter led them out of the room, and they met Fitz’s other security team member, Lyle by the elevator. He had a serious face and wore dark clothes, including the Shield Labs security jacket Fitz had seen Hunter wear.  Lyle escorted them to a waiting company car, a driver already in place. Once this had felt unnecessary, but given everything, he was glad he and Hunter were accompanied by other people, and that Fitz could take Hunter’s hand in the back seat of the company car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to escort you inside?” Lyle asked, looking over his shoulder at them. He didn’t mention their hands entwined on the seat in between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just to security, and then you can get back to your usual day,” Hunter replied. “Thank you, Lyle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, boss,” Lyle replied, and he escorted them inside. It was early enough in the day that the airport wasn’t packed, but FItz was sure that every sudden movement meant a gun and every loud noise meant panic. He tried to control his breathing, tried to remind himself that he was safe. He had Hunter at his side, and Lyle keeping an eye out. Plus there was airport security everywhere around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Hunter asked, but it sounded a thousand yards away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz glanced around them, eyes darting nervously. Hydra Tech was a massive company, with an inconceivable number of resources, so if they wanted FItz out of the way, they could snuff him out easily. A company like Hydra didn’t play by the rules, and could buy their way out of following the law. They’d been at the center of investigations for years, since Fitz had started caring about tech in the first place, but they always, miraculously, were found not guilty or there wasn’t enough evidence to bring them to court in the first place. From what Fitz understood, and what he’d heard, Hydra had deep pockets and connections to certain politicians who kept them out of trouble as long as Hydra kept funding their reelections. Ellen Nadeer came to mind immediately, a close friend of Hydra’s. Her brother had disappeared mysteriously after voicing serious anti-lobbying opinions on his popular podcast, and everyone suspected Hydra’s more shadowy dealings to be responsible. But just like everything else, there wasn’t enough evidence to back the claim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Hydra could disappear a well-known senator’s brother, what could they do to Fitz, who had no connections at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz couldn’t keep his gaze on Hunter for once, feeling all at once like a trapped animal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey,” Hunter said, recognition coloring his tone. “You’re okay. I’m right here, love. Right here with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They -” he started and let out a panicked wheeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter dropped his carry on and pushed Fitz’s off his shoulder so he didn’t feel pinned in place. He had walked Fitz through steps he could do if Fitz had a panic attack before they had left the hotel for the police station the day before. It had seemed silly at the time, but knowing what Hunter was going to do before he did it, the soft way he talked, the way he asked to touch Fitz, the way he moved carefully, slowly, not trying to spook him any further, all of that helped settle him. Fitz could barely hear him, but he could feel his hands on him, a soft touch on his shoulders then stroking slowly down his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter ducked down so Fitz’s eyes caught his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one is here,” Hunter murmured, and Fitz blinked at him. Out of his periphery, he saw Hunter’s hand wave Lyle away. “No one is going to get you. I’m right here in front of you, and I would do anything to take care of you. You know that. Nothing can hurt you while I am here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why me,” Fitz whimpered. “What did I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know why they want to hurt you, but I won’t let them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be. This is normal. This is completely normal. Take a deep breath, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz forced a long, slow breath into his lungs, and caught Hunter by his forearms to steady himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, there we go. That’s good. Let it out slow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, and let the breath out as slow as he could. Hunter leaned in and kissed his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, okay. Okay. All we have to do is get through security, and then we’re okay, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Fitz agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll hold your hand the entire way if I can. I don’t care who sees, or who will talk. I’ll hold you all the way home, just like I told you before,” he said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t care?” Fitz asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not one bit. I told you, I’ll walk all the way into your apartment and tell your husband that I have the honor of getting to be with you, and the absolute pleasure of getting to make you come loudly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Fitz laugh, and the laugh felt good, a relief to his system. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll shout it from the rooftops. I’ll turn around and tell Lyle that I know what your orgasm face looks like. I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of this, of you. I’m going to protect you for as long as you want me here, and I will do anything to keep that promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz breathed out and leaned into Hunter to rest his forehead against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re going to be okay,” Hunter said softly. “Have I ever lied to you before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, exactly. You are going to be okay. I’m not down falling in love with you yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled and tipped his head in to kiss Hunter quickly, except he lingered in Hunter’s space the way he always did, unable to believe this was real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Has anyone told you you’re a good man, Lance Hunter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the adjective people usually use when they talk about me, strangely enough. It’s more </span>
  <em>
    <span>talkative</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>annoying </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>a bastard</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you deserve to hear it. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good man. Thank you for taking care of me like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, they were able to get to security and past it without issue. Hunter let Lyle go once they were through, and Lyle waved as they headed to their gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think he’s going to tell your boss about us?” Fitz asked, setting his carry-on on top of his suitcase to wheel behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter if he does?” Hunter asked in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like there might be a rule against sleeping with the person you’re guarding,” Fitz replied, “and I’d really hate to be the reason you got in trouble or lost your job, you know? You’re very good at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t lose my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but even if I do, it wouldn’t be the end of the world,” Hunter replied. “I’ve been fired before, and I bounced back just fine. I’ll land on my feet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be the reason you lose a job you’ve had for,” Fitz said, trailing off as his attention was drawn elsewhere by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. “We should get some Starbucks for the wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter laughed, and tugged him close by their conjoined hands to kiss his cheek. Fitz didn’t have to see his own face to know he was blushing, the apology already on ready on the tip of his tongue. Grant had always said that he needed to finish his thought, or not start it at all. That ran through his mind whenever he started tripping over his own attention span.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a goddamn delight, Leopold Fitz,” Hunter muttered into his temple, and he felt his shoulders relax. “Yeah, we can get some Starbucks. That sounds great. I could use a tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, we’re so stereotypical,” Fitz chuckled. Hunter kissed his cheek again, and Fitz leaned into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he agreed. “We deserve a good cup of tea, though. Something to calm your nerves, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Fitz found himself wishing that they never had to leave the airport, that the plane would never land, that he would never have to go home. He was grateful that the arm between their seats lifted so he could snuggle into Hunter’s side for the day, holding his hand and feeling him breathe. There was something incredibly soothing about knowing Hunter was </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a tangible thing he could prove to himself. He didn’t want to leave this moment at all, but the plane touched down at LAX and Fitz closed his eyes with a small sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Hunter said softly, tipping his head to kiss Fitz’s forehead. “I have to pick up Fig if you want to come with me for that before I take you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’d like that,” Fitz replied. "I'd actually really like that after, after everything. Snuggling a cat sounds really good today."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to text Mack to let him know we're on our way," Hunter said. He put his hand on Fitz's thigh and squeezed. "Fig will be super excited."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz turned his phone off airplane mode as everyone started filing off the plane, struggling with their bags and cursing under their breath, the usual song and dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Sunday May 19th, 4:19pm </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>Please come home</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he muttered, and Hunter looked over at him from where he was lifting his bag out of the overhead storage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant,” Fitz said, shaking his phone a little towards Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Should I take you home first, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sighed, and nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Hunter said, pausing to lean over and kiss him. “Fig will understand, and will be there whenever you want to come over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>We just landed, I’ll be home soon.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter walked him as far as the elevator, and let him go with a soft, “be safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz reached out and pressed the penthouse floor button once the doors were closed, and watched the numbers on the screen above him change as the elevator rose. As he neared the top of the building, he realized all at once that his wedding ring was still in his bag. He dug through the carry-on, panicked, until his fingertips brushed the cool metal of his ring. Letting out a breath, he slipped it on his ring finger just as the elevator opened to their floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was close,” he muttered to himself and stepped off the elevator. The hallway to their apartment was short, but Fitz took his time with each step. On some days, especially early in their marriage, Grant was tuned into the sound of the elevator arriving. He’d meet Fitz by the door, and pull him into a long kiss, pressing him into the door or the wall. It used to be so exciting to get home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dug his keys out of the bottom of his carry-on, and let himself into the apartment as slowly as possible. Before the door opened, he could smell dinner on the stove, and hear a baseball game on the television. Maybe that meant Grant would be in a good mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant?” he called.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kitchen,” Grant called back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe not. It was so hard to tell sometimes. Sometimes he seemed so cold, and would warm up as soon as Fitz was home. Others, he would seem open and warm, then as soon as Fitz would say anything, he shut down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz kicked off his shoes, and left them by the door to take care of later with his jacket hung over his suitcase, before heading for the kitchen. Grant was chopping herbs at the island, looking out over the breakfast bar at the television in the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Fitz said softly, stepping next to him. Grant leaned towards him and offered his cheek for a kiss, which Fitz complied with. “Missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you, too,” Grant said, setting the knife down and turning away from the baseball game as it turned to a commercial. He tipped Fitz’s chin up and properly kissed him. “Good to have you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, he’d let himself relax in this space, Grant’s hands finding their space on his hips. Usually, he’d forget the world outside of this moment, at least for that moment he would. Except that he’d tasted something heavenly that week, the thrill of complete trust and relaxation with someone. Someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> his husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His husband, who wasn’t an idiot and noticed that Fitz’s posture hadn’t relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when Fitz opened his mouth to start this conversation, he couldn’t say the right words. He couldn’t form the sentence that would ruin his marriage just yet, not after the five years he’d put into this relationship, not after the promises he’d made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he said instead was, “someone tried to kill me this week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Grant said. There was a look of concern, bright and startled, in his eyes. “Someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why didn’t you tell earlier? Why - what happened? Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it was, I - someone shot at me in London. I wasn’t hurt, but I’m definitely shaken up. They caught the guy, but I know that there could be more if they really wanted because he seemed to have connections to Hydra Tech, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hydra</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Grant asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” Fitz said. “Who benefits more from Shield pulling the project than Hydra? Stark Industries doesn’t consider us a competitor, really, since they’re off in their own Stark-driven world. But Hydra and Shield have always been at each other’s necks since they were founded around the same time. If Shield releases this project, we’re in the running for legitimate </span>
  <em>
    <span>awards </span>
  </em>
  <span>and recognition that Hydra has never been able to achieve. And the best way to get Shield to drop the project is to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drop it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should,” Grant replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t. I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo, this is your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been working on this design since before we met. It’s taken me years of work and blood, sweat, tears, sleepless nights, to get it to this point. I’m not dropping it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is insanity. No project is worth your entire life. If you drop the project, then you get to come home, and no one would be trying to kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said immediately. “No, absolutely not. I will not back off of this just because some bullies think they can scare me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, these aren’t schoolyard bullies. They’re men with </span>
  <em>
    <span>guns</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I get to decide what I do about it. I have a security team looking out for me. Trip and Idaho are outside right now. I refuse to let them bully me into the shadows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Grant groaned. “And will you feel like that when you’re dead because some assassin has </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the street?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leopold, this is, this is insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It bears repeating because you’re not listening, or stopping to think about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking about this device for six years,” Fitz argued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not always about work. There are other things in your life to consider outside of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like, your husband, for one! The fact that you haven’t called me to tell me that this happened, that you waited until you came home three days later, because you wanted to keep working, says something about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> and your priorities more than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, why does it always come back to this?” Fitz said, shaking his head. He backed away from Grant and leaned against the other counter. “I have done everything I possibly can to make you feel like I’m here, like I’m giving you my full attention, and yet -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you?” Grant interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were just gone for three weeks, and we talked on the phone, what, three times? And the last time, you hung up on me and said we needed to talk, and then, then you didn’t even think to tell me that you’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>shot at</span>
  </em>
  <span> because work is more important than your own goddamn life. So, forgiven me if I don’t believe that you have actually done everything to make me feel just as important as your job. In fact, it feels like you’d rather be anywhere but here with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a laugh, sarcastic and disbelieving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I do right now,” he said, and that was a little mean. It wasn’t his goal to hurt Grant; even when he was angry at him, he didn’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. After the way Grant had grown up, Fitz had promised him that he would be as gentle and as compassionate as possible. They’d had two sets of vows, their public vows at their wedding, and their private ones full of the things you only said to your therapist. But that didn’t mean his anger was kind. Fitz had never done anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>intentionally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course, but he was his father’s son after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, he wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t Alistair Fitz’s son, but his Alistair Fitz still had his grimy little claws in Fitz even so many years after he’d left, his poison still in Fitz’s veins, even if his blood wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Grant said. “No one’s forcing you to be here. If you want to go, Leo, fucking go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Fitz said, and there was a groan in his own voice he didn’t intend. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, it’s been a long day, and a long couple weeks, and - I don’t want to fight about this right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When do you? You’re always starting fights and then walking away, or distracting me, so nothing gets done. We don’t solve anything. You just, you walk away without </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz blew out a breath. He wanted to go shower, and lay down in bed, and pretend this wasn’t happening, but that would prove Grant right. He did not want to do that. Grant got gloaty and almost insufferable if Fitz gave him an inch. Instead, he stayed in the kitchen, and crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to run, and he had a place he could go if he wanted to get away, but he didn’t want to just run without explaining to Grant what was happening, and he couldn’t just tell Grant he’d fucked Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” Grant said when Fitz didn’t immediately start arguing again. “Do you want to be here with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz paused, and looked at his husband, standing across from him. He was unbearably handsome, a gorgeous man that Fitz couldn’t look away from, his beard a little fuller than usual, clothes a little rumpled, and there were darker circles under his eyes than Fitz had ever seen in their time together. Had his absence affected Grant more than he was letting on? Was something going on with Grant that he hadn’t told him about? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Fitz said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>be here</span>
  </em>
  <span> with me,” Grant urged. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Fitz helped Grant make dinner, and they talked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I want kids,” Grant said as he stirred the cranberry dijon sauce he was making to go over the pork tenderloin in the oven. “I don’t think I’d be a good father. I wouldn’t want to hurt them, and knowing me, that’s exactly what I would do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s true,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never hurt me. Not on purpose, not out of anger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t, or couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, of course not. Anyone can hurt someone at any time. The virtue is whether or not you do. I understand what you went through growing up, and where you come from, but you are not your parents. You are not Christian. You are better than them. You always have been,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true,” Grant said, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is. And if you want, I know you’re resistant to the idea of therapy, but if you want kids someday, you can always talk to someone about the things you’re afraid of. I’ve always worried that I’d become Alistair, so I actively worked against that. When my first instinct is to lash out and be impatient, I remind myself to be calm, and listen, and not jump to conclusions. When I feel like my da, or Alistair, I guess, was right, or on days I feel like I am him, I have my therapist who can walk me through the coping techniques and affirmations I’ve been working on for years. And that’s terrifying to think about, I know, laying your trauma and past out in front of someone, but it could help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His only response was a single word, a terse, “right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’d be a good idea to go to therapy regardless of what happens in our future. It’s never a bad thing,” Fitz said. “But, say you do work that out. Say you decide you want to go to therapy, and you work out your trauma, and get techniques to deal with it. In a daydream where you do that, do you want kids? Do you see yourself moving out of this apartment, shopping for houses, settling down in a suburb somewhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant was quiet for a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to tell you yes,” Grant said so softly that Fitz almost didn’t catch it, his voice a whisper in the near silence of their apartment. He could hear the sauce bubbling in the pan, and the murmur of the ice maker in the freezer working. “I’ve always wanted to give you that, give you what you wanted, but I don’t think I do. I don’t think I ever will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let out a slow breath, because he had known, but hadn’t wanted to accept it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, sure,” Fitz said instead. “That makes sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the click of the stove as the burner was turned off. He’d pulled himself up onto the counter while dinner baked, and when Grant turned around, he wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t bolt the way he wanted to. It would be awkward enough hopping down, but with Grant looking at him like that, he felt pinned in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that the only thing you wanted to talk about?” Grant asked instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, after our last phone call, you said you didn’t want to be a third wheel in our marriage, and that we needed to talk. So, clearly,” he trailed off with a wave of his hand. “Clearly, it’s not just about kids, or where we live. This keeps coming back to John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said, but couldn’t make himself elaborate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, what is your problem with him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few moments, and he was glad that Grant didn’t rush or interrupt him because he might not actually get the words out if he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re more committed to him than you are to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m married </span>
  <em>
    <span>to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I come home </span>
  <em>
    <span>to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I promised my life, and whatever future we have, </span>
  <em>
    <span>to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know how much more committed to you than I could be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you think that,” Fitz said with a sigh. He shook his head. “Okay. Here’s an example. What would you say to us getting a dog?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What does that have to do with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer the question, Grant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say, maybe not now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’re busy. We don’t have time for a dog. Plus, John says,” Grant said, trailing off. There was a moment of realization in his eyes before he shuttered it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>John </span>
  </em>
  <span>says,” Fitz echoed him. “Okay. Here’s another one. I want to move to London to be closer to Daisy and Jemma, and to be closer to my mum. What would you think about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant sighed, “my job is here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your job doesn’t have to be here. You can get a job in banking literally anywhere. What’s the real reason you don’t want to move literally anywhere else except for this city? You don’t even want to move into the suburbs, because, why? Tell me. Tell me why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John lives here,” Grant admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we got married, you said that there wasn’t anyone else that you wanted at your side for the rest of your life. And yet, from day one, there has always been someone else directing how our life goes. We don’t have an equal say in this marriage, and we never have. From our very first date, John Garrett has been this not-quite silent partner controlling our relationship. I moved in with you because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> said it would be easier than finding a place in the city. We almost didn’t get married because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> said that it might not look good to the bosses, or whatever, that you were publicly queer, even though you’d taken me to the Christmas party the year before and introduced me to everyone. I haven’t brought up kids or a house or moving closer to our friends and family because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> would say I’m being fussy. I’m not being fussy, Grant. I’m unhappy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words slipped out before he could stop them, but it wasn’t like he didn’t mean them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! God, yes, of course, I am, Grant! What else do you expect?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never </span>
  <em>
    <span>let me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to fix me, or us, but every time I try, you either won’t let me, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>John fucking Garrett </span>
  </em>
  <span>is there to tell you I’m being overdramatic, or that I’ll get over it, or it’s just phase I’ll get over like I’m some unruly child. I am your goddamn husband, and I have less say in my own life than he does. I have less of your attention than he does. I love you, but it’s not enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not enough, Grant, just to love you anymore. I thought it could be, that I could let everything else go because of it, but -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had tasted something brilliant, something beyond words, in that hotel room with Hunter. It wasn’t just the sex, although that wasn’t to be discounted. No, it was that moment right before he fell asleep, wrapped up in Hunter’s arms, safe and sound, and he closed his eyes completely happy. It was the moment right as he woke up in the morning, tucked into Hunter’s chest, his hand a steady weight resting between Fitz’s shoulder blades, consistent and anchoring. It was every moment in between, the jokes at work, the way Hunter remembered his favorite food and got it for him without question, the smiles they traded, secret and private even out in the open, the easy camaraderie Fitz had felt with him immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m done being second best in our relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you breaking up with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said. “Not, not outright, but I think it would be best for both of us if we spent some time apart. Maybe that’ll let you decide what you want, if you want me in your life more than you want to please Garrett.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant crossed the kitchen and pulled Fitz to the edge of the counter gently, hands curling around his hips, and Fitz couldn’t help but lean into him out of habit. Grant kissed him, soft and sweet and full of love, and Fitz sank into it, bringing his hands up to stroke over Grant’s jaw and neck. Grant’s tongue traced his lower lip, then slipped past, leaving Fitz to groan into the kiss. They’d always been good at this, at the very least, the kissing and the quiet enjoyment of each other. He didn’t try to push it any further than kissing, though, Grant’s hands staying innocently on his hips while Fitz kept his own on Grant’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz was transported back to their first date, awkward and nervous around each other, fumbling words and objects. Grant had seemed like a dream then, an intelligent, attractive man who was interested in him, who listened and asked questions about him. He couldn't believe it was real, and when Grant had kissed him, it had felt so welcome, a sip of hot tea after so long in the cold. Grant had kissed him like he was a parched man, and Fitz was his first drink of water. He trailed kisses over to his neck and asked, voice husky in his ear, if he wanted to come back to his apartment. It was the first time Fitz had fucked someone on the first date, laid out beneath Grant in his penthouse apartment, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>apartment, whimpering with the sheer delight and pleasure of being with someone. It could have been anyone on that date with him, anyone in that bed. It had been by sheer luck that it had been Grant. It had been an accident that they met in the first place, Fitz in the right place to get a coffee spilled on him by an attractive man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Grant pulled away, both panting from the sheer force of the kiss, he rested his forehead against Fitz’s and whimpered, “I don’t want to lose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz traced his fingers over his jawline, to his lips, and Grant kissed the pads of his fingertips gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then decide you actually want me here, Grant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz slipped off the counter and left the kitchen. Grant let him go, heading to the bedroom with his suitcase. He dumped the clothes in the washer in the laundry room on his way through, except for the hoodie he’d stolen from Hunter which still smelled of him. Smelled of home. Fitz gathered his stuff, a change of clothes, his phone charger, his tablet or work, and went into the spare bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Sunday May 19th, 6:38pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Oh my god</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>????</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Are you okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Might have separated from my husband</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I told him I was unhappy, and that I didn’t want to be backseat to Garrett anymore, and that we should spend some time apart to decide what we want</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>How do you feel?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Honestly? Exhausted</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Understandable</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>No, I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I do miss you already though</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I missed you too</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>How’s Fig?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>[image attachment]</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent a photo of Fig sprawled out on his bare chest, her eyes closed as he scratched behind her ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Wish I was there, looks cozy</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Yeah I wish you were here too</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz changed out of his travel clothes into a pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, then pulled on Hunter’s hoodie over it. He snapped a selfie and sent it to Hunter with no caption.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: 😍</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: 😘</b>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on the door and Grant peeked in almost shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I brought you dinner,” he said. “You should eat, even if we’re -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off with a frown, and he swallowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Fitz said, getting up to accept the plate from him. “That’s very sweet of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll let you be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let him close the door as he left, and took his plate back to the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I think there’s this place I want to take you to this week</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Long lunch so I can take you on an actual date?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Let me check my schedule</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>You’re free Tuesday, no meetings until 4</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>And does my head of security think this is safe?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>He does</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I’d love to then</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It was odd, sleeping alone in his own home, sleeping alone in a bed that wasn’t his. It was odd enough that he didn’t sleep extremely well, tossing and turning, the same nightmare he’d had in the hotel plaguing him. Every noise jolted him awake, and there was no one there to settle him back down, so he finally sat up, turned the bedside light on, and gave up trying entirely. He opened his work tablet and accessed his sketch software, and let himself create. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d stopped bringing home his physical sketchbook at both Weaver’s insistence and Grant’s request that, at home, he wasn’t doing work. But he did bring home his tablet as a means of working while Grant was distracted, since it came with a password and a VPN. No one except Fitz could get into it. Well, except Daisy but she wouldn’t. He let him design absently, nonsensically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, he’d designed a plane after a long night of no sleep that he’d affectionately codenamed Zephyr One, but Shield Labs hadn’t branched out into aircraft yet so Fitz had stowed that design away in case they started that discussion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He texted Hunter random thoughts throughout the night, about date ideas and what kind of restaurant they should try when they traveled back to the production sits.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Monday May 20th, 5:35 am</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Did you sleep at all?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Not really, got maybe an hour overall</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Oh babe</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I’ll pick you up some tea when I come to pick you up, then</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Appreciated</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Although seeing your face is enough</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: 💙</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>None of my messages woke you up, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>No they didn’t</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>If you need me at night, call me. That’ll wake me up.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Okay, will do</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Pick me up early?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>You want to get some breakfast?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I want to make out with you in a parking lot somewhere </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>But breakfast sounds good too</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>An hour then?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I’ll be ready</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Fitz said, sitting down at his desk after morning break, a fresh tea in hand for both of them. “I have an appointment at 3 that I’m ducking out for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked up from his computer with a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last minute appointment. I asked my therapist to fit me in as soon as she could, so she put in a block of time for me this afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hunter said and Fitz found himself bracing for some comment about that being silly or inconvenient, “that’s good. That’s really good. I’m glad she could fit you in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Fitz looked over at Hunter. “You’re okay with that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I - of course, but I also don’t have to be. You going to therapy is a you thin. It doesn’t affect me as your boyfriend or your security officer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if I’m going to talk about us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you planning on telling her about the size of my dick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter got up and as he walked towards Fitz’s desk, he closed the blinds into the hallway and then shut the door so it was just them in the privacy of Fitz’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scooch your chair back,” he said, the command in his voice gentle but effective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Fitz replied and slid the chair back away from the desk enough that Hunter had enough room. He sank into Fitz’s lap, leg straddling his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, interesting,” Hunter commented under his breath before catching Fitz’s chin in a soft grip. “Baby boy, I will never tell you not to talk to your therapist about me, or us. I obviously draw the line at explicit intimate details, but I know you wouldn’t share that anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Fitz played with the fabric of Hunter’s shirt at his hips, but kept his eyes on Hunter’s. The brown of his eyes was laced with green and gold, giving an almost hazel look in this lighting. He remembered the way his eyes looked in their hotel bed, the sunshine streaming through the windows. He’d looked almost ethereal then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, sitting in his office on the engineering floor, Hunter didn’t seem entirely real, like Fitz might wake up at any minute and realize all of this had been a dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your therapist will help you decide what you want, and how to cope with what’s happened to you. My own is basically a common sense filter when I start spiraling. He’s helped me with my PTSD and abusive father trauma, and reminds me how to be a person, not just a ball of anger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You go to therapy, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I had to at first. Bob made me because I was this unpleasant, broken person after the army and the SAS, and I was self-destructive. I had a lot of trips to the hospital before I decided to get help. Doctor Garner has really helped in a way that I never could have imagined before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Fitz said. “Wait, Doctor Garner. Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Andrew </span>
  </em>
  <span>Garner?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hunter said slowly. “Do you know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of. I know May, through Daisy mostly, but I know May, and I know that she was married before Coulson to a psychologist and a professor. He’s a very good man from what I understand,” Fitz answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot get over the fact that you know Melinda May personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. She’s practically my work mum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just bizarre,” Hunter said, “and also not the point. I don’t mind you talking to a professional and getting some help. You’ve gone through a lot, between questioning your marriage, and the stress of the project, and the attempt on your life, and us, and your dad not being your dad. That’s a lot for anyone, so you deserve a break and to talk through what you’re feeling right now. And you don’t have to feel bad for wanting to go. I encourage it. Okay? I don’t want you to feel bad for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter tilted his chin up and kissed him. Fitz felt the tension in his back and across his shoulders ease, worry seeping out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go,” Hunter muttered. “Relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - no, hold on,” Fitz said, the apology almost tripping from his tongue. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you</span>
  </em>
  <span> for being understanding. That means a lot to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Hunter replied. “Should I get off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should definitely get off, and I would definitely enjoy helping you out with that,” Fitz said teasingly, “but I have a brainstorm meeting in a few minutes. I’d prefer not to walk into the lab with a hard on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter chuckled and kissed along his jaw to just below his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d never leave you hard in your pants, baby, unless you were being particularly naughty and needed to be punished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shiver rippled through Fitz and he gripped Hunter’s shirt tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll certainly be discussing that later,” Fitz replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? That interest you?” Hunter teased, nipping at his earlobe lightly. Fitz groaned, but forced his body, and more importantly his </span>
  <em>
    <span>hips</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m interested,” he breathed out, and he wanted to say it was an avenue he'd always been interested in, but the pique of curiosity had been dulled with his experience with Grant. That was a discussion for another time, not when they were in the office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to know,” Hunter said. “That is certainly good to know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed Fitz again, this one sweet and gentle, the heat of the moment a whisper as it faded, Hunter cradling his jaw in his hands. Fitz felt lie they were some romantic leads, Hunter the love interest who had won Fitz’s heart while Fitz was the dorky protagonist you couldn't believe got a guy that hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meeting,” Fitz murmured finally as his calendar app on his desktop chimed reminding him of his appointment, even though he wanted nothing more than to keep kissing Hunter for as long as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter climbed off him with one more quick kiss, like an addict needing one more hit to get them through. He swiped his thumb over Fitz’s lower lip, eyes on Fitz’s mouth before he stepped away. Fitz watched as he walked back to his desk to sip his tea innocently while he fixed his own shirt, making himself presentable. His engineering team weren’t idiots; if he walked into the lab looking rumpled, they’d absolutely figure out that he’d been snogging Hunter in his office. On top of that, they were awful gossips. No, it was better safe than sorry. It was why Hunter lingered outside the lab when he had team meetings like this. They’d see them make eyes at each other, and suddenly every division would have some story about how Fitz and Hunter fucked in the lab in front of everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And while he wasn’t entirely opposed, except for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>in front of everyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit, he certainly didn’t need the world knowing his business, so he fixed his shirt, and when they walked to the meeting, he kept his hands to himself. Mostly. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Hunter took Fitz out to dinner that night, and he said very pointedly, “this is not a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Fitz asked with a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow is our date. This is just dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Hunter, whatever you say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter still held his hand while they waited for their meal, paid for their meal, which was incredibly unnecessary, and kissed him against the car when he was sure no one was looking. Fitz was sure that Hunter might have kissed him anyway, but Hunter didn’t do anything that would make Fitz uncomfortable. He took Fitz back to his apartment, and let Fig crawl all over him. It was homey, and comfortable, and when Fig curled up in his lap, Fitz never wanted to leave this apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said. “Do you want me to take you home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Fitz said, running his fingers along Fig’s fur. She was incredibly soft, and she purred in his lap, and he was content. “You know what would make it better, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, right here,” Fitz said, patting the couch next to him. “You’re too far away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter put down the stuff he was straightening, and came to Fitz’s side, sinking into the cushion. Fitz tucked himself underneath Hunter’s arm and sighed happily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Leo?” Grant said the next morning as Fitz stepped out of the bathroom. He was sitting at the dining room table, papers spread out on the tabletop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a minute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to get ready for work. Hunter is going to be here soon to pick me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, this will just take a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz moved to sit at the table with him, and Grant scooped up his papers so Fitz couldn’t see what was on them. It wasn’t necessary. Fitz didn’t understand Grant’s job and didn’t want to start putting that effort in that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I was thinking, I was thinking tonight at dinner. I can make your favorite dinner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ve been thinking, and I want to talk about this. We sit down, and we talk about everything, work this out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked at him, and held his gaze for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a flash of being tucked under Hunter’s arm, Fig asleep over both of them, warm and welcome. All at once, he knew that he’d never have that with Grant. There would be no cats stretched out across laps, or warm weeknights tucked together with a kid between them. They were stuck in this rut that they’d been in since they started dating, in their cold penthouse apartment, living the same days over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz said, because no matter what Grant said, unless it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>let’s look at houses, I’m deleting John Garrett’s number, I want kids with you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fitz couldn’t see a future with him. “Let’s talk tonight.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“The place” Hunter wanted to take him to was a hike into the hills. He’d texted Fitz that morning with his usual perk, telling him to pack his sneakers without any explanation as to why, but Fitz had put a pair of sneakers into his bag, and met Hunter in the car. If Fitz asked where they were going, Hunter would give him a cheeky little wink and tell him he’d see. They left the office around ten in the morning, and Hunter drove them out of the city and into the surrounding foothills. Hunter pulled into a state park entrance as easily as if he were pulling into his own driveway, the turn of the steering wheel familiar under his deft hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, are you going to murder me?” Fitz asked, glancing at the trees around them as they became thicker. “I’m not looking forward to death. I’d prefer to be alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d also prefer you alive,” Hunter said. “Don’t worry. You’re leaving this date in tact, all your limbs and body parts still attached to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, that’s reassuring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He parked in a little clearing next to a trail map, and shifted towards Fitz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so, this is a really easy trail. This is like a baby trail comparatively. It’s the middle of the day, and you’re wearing slacks still, so we’re going to just go on the scenic trail, and then if you don’t hate it, we can work our way up to actual hikes. There’s this mountain trail I’d love to take you to, actually,” Hunter said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby trail, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Fitz said. “Do I get to at least hold your hand so I won’t fall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t fall, but I’ll hold your hand anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The forest they hiked through was gorgeous, but Fitz was certainly not cut out for hiking in anyway. Hunter had brought a bottle of water that dangled from his fingers, and Fitz guzzled about half of it halfway up the small hill they were attempting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get better,” Hunter replied. “Practice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Fitz agreed. “This is why I work in a lab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll start taking you to the gym, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you don’t like my body the way it is?” Fitz asked, and with anyone else there might have been an amount of hurt or self-consciousness, but this was Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, funny guy,” Hunter said. He tugged Fitz closer to him and kissed him. “I like you just the way you are, actually. I just want to show you all the beautiful things I’ve seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter tugged him forward, and they walked in silence for a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I’ve told you this,” Hunter started, “but I used to go on hikes after I got out of the SAS. I wasn’t a pleasant person to be around. I was hurting, and angry, and I hated myself. This was before I started seeing Doctor Garner. For so long, I’d done nothing but destroy  things and hurt people because I was ordered to, and I didn’t know what to be after that. I didn’t know who I was, or if I deserved something good in my life. And I’d been spiraling for a little bit, sleeping with anyone who would have me, drinking far too much and nearly ending up in the hospital, not caring if I died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz made a noise in the back of his throat unwillingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled at him and said, “this story has a happy ending, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One day, I was overwhelmed by all the noise of the city, and I just needed to get away. So I hopped in my car, and just drove. It didn’t matter where, or how fast. I didn’t care if I wrapped my car around a tree. I just couldn’t be in the city surrounded by all those people. And I wound up at a state park just like this one, near a mountain, and I just started hiking up it. It was a hot summer day, and I didn’t bring any water, and I got a terrible sunburn, but I got to this outlook point, and nothing mattered. It was this stunning view of this valley between the mountains, all these lush trees, and you could hear the wind in the leaves. It was beautiful beyond anything I had ever seen before, and all of that rage and trauma and, and confusion, it quieted for once. I wasn’t fixed, obviously. I had a lot of work I needed to do with myself and with Doctor Garner, but I didn’t actively want to die. I cared about what happened to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter was quiet for a while, and Fitz didn’t press him. They crested the hill to an outlook point, clearly much less grandiose than the one from Hunter’s story, but it was pretty. It overlooked a little lake in the state park, the trees beyond. There was a bench perfectly situated to relax on and take in the sight, and Hunter guided them over to it. When they sat down, Hunter slung his arm over Fitz’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. Fitz pressed his ear into Hunter’s chest, feeling more than hearing the rumble of his voice in his body, the thump of his heart beat, steady and unwavering. He closed his eyes and listened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hike, the view, the time I spent by myself, not destroying anything, just appreciating the sounds of birds and the smell of the summer blooms, it just settled me. I know that sounds - I actually don’t know how that sounds. But it became a habit. If I started to get worked up, or just needed some time by myself, I would find a new trail, and see something new. Doctor Garner actually said that was one of the healthier reactions he’d seen, and that he was proud that I chose a non-destructive outlet for that grief I was carrying. The world just didn’t seem so bad from up on a mountain, you know? There was so much sky, and so many trees, and I saw deer, and chipmunks, and rabbits.  I had seen so much horror and death when I served, but at least there were places untouched by man, or as untouched as you get, I suppose. There were little nests, and thickets, and there were trails that were only a worn patch in the dirt and a vague arrow sign pointing you forward. The world didn’t seem like it was falling apart around me when there was always new life. It was - god, Fitz, it was beautiful. I’d forgotten that the world could be bright, and there could be sunshine like that, and that new things were created every day. It centered what I’d thought of the world for so long, pulling me back, and - for the first time in years, since I was seventeen, I remembered that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>could create things, that I wasn’t made for just tearing things apart, or lying. I wasn’t only deceit and destruction. I could be good, and make things, and love without worrying I was going to ruin someone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine what that was like,” Fitz muttered without lifting his head from Hunter’s chest. His heart beat like a drum, a staccato keeping them in time with each other. “Even after everything, I can’t imagine that kind of trauma and darkness you had to go through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the distance, a bird took off from a tree branch, wings spread wide as it flew. Somedays, Fitz wished he could fly like that, take off and go somewhere else. He’d leave his life, and go exploring wherever he pleased, Hunter right beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really happy that you wanted to share this with me. It is beautiful. And I’m glad you’re here now, doing what you were meant to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? You think I’m cut out for this?” Hunter asked, a characteristic light teasing in his voice. “You think I have a future here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz tipped his head back to look at him better.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really do. You definitely have a future here,” Fitz replied.  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>On the walk back, Fitz held Hunter’s hand, although not to keep from tumbling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something?” Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. This might be forward, I guess, and I’m not trying to scare you away, but,” Fitz paused as he stepped over a fallen tree, “but what do you see for a future?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter was quiet, and Fitz worried maybe he’d overstepped a boundary somehow. He didn’t know if that was possible. Hunter was alarmingly open about a lot of things, which was refreshing after being married to someone who kept everything close to his chest. But Hunter’s previous openness didn’t necessarily mean he would continue to be that open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Hunter said, “I’d love to move back to England. I want to buy a house, and get Fig a friend. She deserves someone to play with and cuddle with when I’m at work. I feel bad leaving her so often, you know? But I’d like to get married and have a family. I’ve been lacking in family for most of my life. My mum and dad were both only children of only children. I never had any siblings, no aunts or uncles, no cousins. Then my mum died, and it was just me and Dad, and he’s a piece of shit I don’t talk to anymore. So, beyond Bob, it’s just been me. With all of that, I think I’d like to have a couple kids, a yard for them to play in. I want to take them on hikes like this one, and - should I stop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, god, no. Tell me more. Tell me everything. Names of kids. Places you want to take them. Anything. I want to hear it all, Hunter. I’ve spent years thinking I wouldn’t get to have these conversations, and I want, I want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter stopped them on a little plateau on the way down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, real quick. Level with me. Do you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, specifically? Or do you just want this with, with anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Fitz said immediately. “With you, Hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was guided forward by Hunter’s hand in his own, and then they were kissing on this hillside, the spring wind soft against their skin; Fitz thought, curling into Hunter’s touch as best as he could, that he could stay here forever.  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Fitz,” Weaver called as Fitz stepped off the elevator with Hunter when they got back, carrying their lunch. “There you are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were looking for me. We had a long lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Oh, that’s fine. I need you to go to New York.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a problem with the production line, and they can’t get it sorted, so you have a flight out tonight. I know you just got home, but -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I signed on for this. Any idea what went wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They couldn’t quite figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Okay. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled gratefully at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your travel details have been sent to your work email, as usual, and Hunter, you were CC’d on that as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Hunter replied. Weaver nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be safe, Fitz,” Weaver said gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Tuesday May 21st, 3:01pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I’m sorry, I have to fly to New York immediately, so I won’t be home for dinner</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>I wouldn’t expect anything else at this point</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I am sorry. Someone fucked up the production line, and I have to go fix it. I will be home as soon as I can.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>Okay</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>I love you, please be safe</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I will</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Sitting in the airport waiting for their flight to board, Fitz took out the business card he kept on him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Dr. Holden Radcliffe, PhD</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushed his thumb across the debossed letters, with his phone in his other hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up?” Hunter asked, sinking next to him with their drinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking of calling him,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you’ve never really had a family. Me, neither. Da’s family never really liked him, or my mum, and because of that, I haven’t seen my grandparents since I was, like, eight? My mum’s family are nice but distant, all hermits. I saw my grandma on that side when I was sixteen, I think. I think it’d be nice to, to know that actual side of my family, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All a bunch of orphans and hermits in our conjoined family,” Hunter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what you’re going to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No fucking idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want a minute alone to do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, I don’t know. I don’t know about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I can stay, or I can go, whatever you want. I want you to be comfortable, and whatever you need,” Hunter said, trailing off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Fitz said gently. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Hunter said, leaning over and kissing Fitz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz turned the business card over and studied the chicken scratch phone number and slanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>HJR</span>
  </em>
  <span> just below it. He tried to conceptualize what a life with his biological father in his life. He would have been Leopold James Radcliffe instead, theoretically. Maybe he would have been someone else entirely, since Leopold was a name Alistair had chosen. Who was Leopold Radcliffe? Who could he have been? Maybe he would have been so much happier, less bogged down from his father’s abuse and abandonment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know if he wanted to be someone else, though, even considering the things he might have avoided going through. Maybe Leopold Radcliffe wouldn’t have ended up at Shield, and wouldn’t have ended up with Hunter here. Maybe this guy would’ve been an asshole that Hunter didn’t even like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wouldn’t change anything wondering what ifs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He punched in the number one digit at a time, and switched his phone to his other hand just to slide his hand into Hunter’s as he hit the dial button on his screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wish me luck,” Fitz said, lifting his phone to his ear. He’d never heard a ringing sound so heart-stopping before. It was the longest moment of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice surprised Fitz. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting a Scottish accent, but he startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Hi,” Fitz replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter squeezed his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is this?” the voice replied, clearly on edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, Leo Fitz,” Fitz breathed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Leo</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mum, Abi told you,” he said haltingly. “She didn’t say she would be telling you. I - I didn’t expect this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, she didn’t - I figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you did,” he said, and there was a little fondness to his voice that Fitz wasn’t expecting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my dear boy, of course, it is.” There was a pause and he spoke to someone else, excusing himself. “It’s good to hear from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz replied. “I, uhhh, I’m glad we can talk, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear him chuckle a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go on my flight soon, but if you’re in London, I’ll be going back in a week or so, if you wanted to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Holden said, cutting him off. “I’d love to. I’d love that. You just name the day, the time, the place, anything you want, and I’ll be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s, that’s good. I’m, I’m excited to meet you in person. And not as a baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter snorted next to him, and Fitz elbowed him lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Hunter chuckled. “You’re just really cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shushed him quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I am as well. I’ve been waiting for this for, well, since before you were born. And I’m sorry it’s taken this long. It was best for you, to protect you, I know, but I’m still sorry that I didn’t reach out earlier. I have tried to keep abreast of your life, of course, as much as I could, but I know that isn’t quite the same thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand why you and Mum did what you did,” Fitz replied. “I get it. Alistair is not a man you fuck around with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden snorted on the other end of the call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is one way to describe him, yes,” and there was a quiet that Fitz didn’t know how to describe. “I’m sorry for the childhood you had, Leo. I never wanted that for you. I thought, I thought if I stepped out of your lives, you’d be safe and sound, but had I known -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know, and it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be able to forgive myself for the things you went through, but I hope that from here, I can make up for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have anything to make up for, but I appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The automated attendant overhead called for their gate to start boarding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time to go, love,” Hunter said gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, I have to go. Would you mind if I called you again sometime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind at all. Call me whenever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Uhm, I - thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to thank me, my boy,” he said, and it was a warm tone, soft and full of love. His mum used that tone. It was familiar, and Fitz closed his eyes, imagining a life where he’d heard that growing up from all sides, Holden’s voice telling him he was proud of him instead of Alistair’s berating him. It wouldn’t change the past, but maybe Fitz could find some peace now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call you,” Fitz said, and they said goodbye. He hung up and looked at Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so bad, was it?” Hunter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, uhh, not, not bad at all. That was - god, this sounds so silly to say, but that was nice to talk to him, and hear his voice. He doesn’t even know me and he treated me better than Alistair ever did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his temple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not silly. That sounds nice, baby. You deserve that. You deserve so much good, so I hope this is the start of a long series of good things for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Fitz said. “This isn’t the start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nudged Hunter gently with his elbow and said, “you were the start of my good things.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He was trying to remain calm. The production line had been shut down for the day and the workers sent to other parts of the facility to help there while the problem was sorted. As soon as they arrived, he was led to the line to inspect it. Then, he'd practically crawled through every inch of the line, on his hands and knees, looking it over piece by piece. By the time he found the culprit, a literal wrench in the works, he was covered in grease and felt horrendously dirty, but he pulled the wrench free and climbed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck is this doing in there?" he asked the lead on the line. The lead took the wrench and inspected it. "That could have literally caused a chain reaction and an explosion that killed most of the Lighthouse."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lead, an older man who had the name WALTERS on his uniform, shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe one of the maintenance guys dropped it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stared at him and took the wrench back from him, flipping it over. Each engineer at Shield Tech was given a stipend to purchase a set of tools. Fitz had a preference towards a particular set, as did most of the engineering team, some to the point that they'd get their names engraved in the handles of their tools.</span>
</p><p>T. WALTERS was engraved on the handle of the wrench.</p><p>
  <span>"You're T. Walkers, aren't you?" Fitz asked. "What the hell is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrench doing in the production line?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Hunter step closer. Walters looked at the wrench, and then at Fitz, a sad softness in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's been a struggle all year. They offered me a lot of, of money to try and, and hurt you but make it look like an accident. I didn't want to hurt you, Doctor Fitz, I swear, but my wife's been out of work for months and my daughter needs a surgery for her back. I, I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of Fitz's eyes, he saw Hunter signal someone over, two of the security officers who had been with them since the airport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take this man to the security office," Hunter said, "I'll be there in a few minutes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, sir," one of them, O'Brien replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took the wrench from him as he was led away and as soon as he was taken out of the production line room, Fitz sank onto the floor, gripping the gnarled handle of the wrench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leo,” Hunter said softly. He crouched beside Fitz and touched his shoulder. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought Shield was safe. I thought I've worked here since I was eighteen. I’ve given so much of my life for Shield, and I thought that afforded me a little safety at work. But anyone can be bought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hunter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz caught his hand and squeezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re right. Not anyone. You’re too good to me for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry this keeps happening. I don’t know what else we can do,” Hunter muttered, and despite the other line lead still being in the room, within line of sight, he tipped Fitz’s chin up and kissed him gently on the forehead. “But I will keep being here, no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone inside of Shield, though, Hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could be anyone outside of the two of us. It could be literally anyone. How am I supposed to, to keep going when nothing is safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep going because you’re passionate about the project, and about your work, because you have all of Shield Labs behind you, because I’m here with you, and because, this is a Bobbi Morse direct quote, because you’ve got some motherfuckers to prove wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Fitz laugh at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This sucks,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sighed and nodded, turning the wrench over in his hands. It was proof that someone wanted him dead, sure. He let the weight of it rest heavy in his hands. It was also proof that he had survived again, curling his fingers over it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said. He rose to his feet, and Hunter followed, and walked to the power switch on the machine. With a slow breath out, he switched it on and listened to the sweet hum of the machine coming to life, the smooth process of gears turning without a </span>
  <em>
    <span>literal</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrench clogged them up. He waved over the foreman who had been lingering at the edges of the room since they’d gotten there. “You might want to vet your leads a little better next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” they replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> When Hunter and Fitz walked away, side by side, Hunter leaned in and muttered, “you’re hot in a position of power, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Down, boy,” Fitz said jokingly. Hunter guided him through the production site to the office they’d set up for him for his first visit, designed so he could file reports and meet with members of the team in private. Hunter’s hand was a gentle pressure on the small of his back, but it was enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weaver wants us to stay to oversee the production just in case, doesn’t she?” Hunter asked once they were closed away in the little office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We’ll be here for the rest of the work week and then we’ll fly back Friday night. They don’t want any more fuck-ups like that where they have to send us to the site. I’m also here to train someone how to correct any future problems.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you can do that in two days?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, no,” Fitz scoffed. “But I’ll give them whatever I can, plus the resources to figure it out themselves, and then also my direct number in case they need any help. It’s all I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> do in the time we have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a feeling we might be flying out here a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have, admittedly, very little faith in most people so I have a feeling you’re right. But it’s not so bad since I have you here with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked at him for a long moment, as if he wanted to say something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re adorable,” Hunter said instead. “Absolutely adorable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz blew a kiss at him as he sat down to fill out the incident report. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The maintenance worker they’d assigned to the production line had, at the very least, a bachelor's in engineering so Fitz didn’t feel like his crash course was falling entirely on deaf ears. His name was Donnie Gill, and he had an annoying habit of calling him Doctor Fitz despite Fitz’s many protestations. Hunter, of course, found it hilarious and whispered in Fitz’s ear fairly naughty things that were not proper for the workplace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were overcompensating,” Fitz said about this habit at lunch the next day, lifting his soda to his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you do know better,” Hunter replied, pizza slice folded in half on the way up to his own mouth. “While we’re on the subject, though, I want to ask about a few things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here?” Fitz asked, looking around at the little picnic area they’d found themselves at, overlooking Lake Ontario.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, here,” Hunter replied. “Does that bother you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m, uhh, not particularly into being watched, or looked at,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, being perceived is a bitch, huh,” Hunter said lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not really,” Fitz trailed off, and he could feel the heat in his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you’re not into voyeurism,” Hunter said more sincerely. He reached out and touched Fitz’s forearm with his free, clean hand. “Are you uncomfortable? I’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just, I’m not good at </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Fitz replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At sex? Because that’s definitely not true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, at </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, talking about it, about -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter squeezed his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can wait,” Hunter said, “until we’re alone, at the hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t be any better there. What did you want to ask about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a few things I’m curious about, about your experiences, about what you want to try and what you’d like to avoid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just say yes or no, how’s that sound?” Hunter asked. “We can stop at any time, you just have to say the word. I won’t push this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter set his pizza down and leaned towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, voyeurism, that’s a no?” Hunter started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s a no. I, I just want it to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> when we’re together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, good to know. Good to know. I don’t particularly find that interesting myself, but it’s good to know our limits. I won’t lie, I can be a little kinky, so,” Hunter started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, babe,” Fitz chuckled. “I knew that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, okay, then,” Hunter laughed. “Snarky little boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a feeling of the kind of kinks you have, considering what I’ve experienced so far.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d definitely be curious what that would be,” Hunter said, “but that’s a different conversation. How do you feel about role play?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither yes nor no?” Fitz said. “I’m not outright ruling it out, but it’s nothing I’m desperate to try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. There’s bondage, tying each other up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded, and Hunter looked quietly pleased at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little bit more risky here, spanking?” Hunter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh,” Fitz said. He didn’t want to say no, because if there was anyone he wanted to try that with again, it was Hunter. It didn’t matter what he had done with Grant before and not enjoyed, he wanted to try out everything he could with Hunter. “Yeah. I have some experience with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked at him for a minute, inspecting his face as if he was trying to decipher what that meant. He asked, “and is it something you want to try again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With you? Absolutely. Doesn’t matter what I’ve done with someone else, because most things I’d be willing to try with you again, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter smiled and leaned over the table to kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?” Fitz asked, stroking over Hunter’s jaw as he pulled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing that immediately comes to mind right now, at least. But I will let you know if I come up with anything, and I will certainly keep all of what we talked about today in mind.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Friday, the day they were flying home, they were scheduled to come in late. Donnie was up and running as the lead line technician, and Walters was in police custody for admitting to sabotage, accepting bribes, and attempted murder. That last bit always stalled Fitz's heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter had run out to get them breakfast while Fitz had opted to stay in bed with his work tablet. He was trying to work out a design modification, which wasn't going particularly well, but it also had taken him nearly six years to get his first design working and approved for production so a little snag on a modification wasn't anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatcha working on?" Hunter asked when he came back in with a bag of food in one hand and balancing a drink carrier with their teas in another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, the device," Fitz said, saving his progress and closing the tablet. "Some efficiency things for the next version, if Shield lets me do another version after how much trouble this one has been."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure they will. You don't have to stop on my account," Hunter said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked at the tablet and then at Hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to get grease on it," he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's reasonable. I did make sure they put extra grease on the hash browns."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz rolled his eyes and set the tablet aside on the bedside table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're obnoxious," Fitz said fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter opened his mouth as if he were going to retort, squeaking out a sound that sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'll</span>
  </em>
  <span> before shaking his head and saying, "never mind." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hand over the food, Hunter, before I bite you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, kinky," Hunter said even as he unbagged the food. "Didn't know you'd be into that, baby boy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had started to notice the pet name, </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, coming more frequently, probably spurred on by their discussion at lunch the other day. For once, he didn’t mind it. Anyone else it might seem degrading, or infantilizing. Hunter always said it with such fondness and warmth, without any kind of derision to it at all. When he called Fitz </span>
  <em>
    <span>baby boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was only with adoration and humor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could consider it,” Fitz said. They sat down on the bedspread and ate their breakfast. They wouldn’t be sleeping in this bed again, and if they ended up staying for whatever reason after they got crumbs in the blankets, they did have a whole other room to move to. These ones weren’t connected, but they were side by side, so it would work. Hunter had brought them breakfast sandwiches from the cafe nearby, and hashbrowns, with fresh hot teas. It was good. It was domestic. It was everything that Fitz had daydreams about before they were together. These were the fantasies Fitz had had, the soft quiet, the comfortable air between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean it?” Hunter asked suddenly, their meal mostly gone, just wrappers and crumbs left behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d really consider anything with me?” Hunter asked. “Just because I asked?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah,” he replied. “I won’t cross any boundaries for either of us, obviously, but I am a scientist after all. Experimentation is a main proponent of learning. How do I know what I like, and what I like with you, specifically, if we don’t experiment? And that’s not just about sex, either. It could be anything, even as small as getting a new food when we go out -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter scoffed a little at this, but it wasn’t harsh or mean. It was familiar. Kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, just because I haven’t yet doesn’t mean I can’t,” Fitz said, playing into it. “I just willfully choose not to. Besides, I trust you. I know if something doesn’t sit right with me, or with you, we can stop any time. I know that there’s nothing to be afraid of because you’re there with me. As long as it’s not a hard no, then I’m willing to try anything with you at least once. Maybe twice. Experiments also need to be repeatable for them to hold any water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," he said with a nod. He checked the alarm clock on the bedside table. "Good to know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished breakfast, and Fitz got up to wash his hands of any lingering grease. He brushed his teeth while he was in there, and considered shaving, his beard getting a little long. Hunter hadn't complained yet, so he didn't mind it a little longer than usual. He left the bathroom, and started for their suitcases sitting side by side on the dresser in the far corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Hunter said, grabbing Fitz by the wrist as he went to pass, and pulled him in. He stood between Hunter’s legs, and ran his hands through Hunter’s hair. “Hey gorgeous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey beautiful,” Fitz replied softly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his chest while his hands slipped up his hips and underneath his shirt, fingers soft against his stomach.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take your shirt off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Fitz chuckled, reaching and pulling it up over his head. Hunter left a trail of kisses down from his chest over his stomach, wet kisses gentle against his skin. “What’d I do to deserve this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You exist,” Hunter said. His fingers went to the waistband of Fitz’s sweatpants. Well, they were Hunter’s, technically, as he’d grabbed them that morning instead of his own. “May I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may,” Fitz said. Hunter stripped the sweatpants, and with them, his underwear, away so Fitz was standing in front of him naked, cock stirring with interest without having even been touched yet. “This seems a bit unfair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter was still fully dressed, wearing his jeans and t-shirt, the material of his sleeve brushing along Fitz’s leg as he tossed away Fitz’s clothes out of reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh, we’re getting there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t seem in any hurry to take off his clothes, though, content to continue running fingers and lips over Fitz’s skin. He wasn’t complaining, not entirely, but it would be more enjoyable with Hunter on display too.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunter,” he groaned as Hunter continued to tease him, reaching for Hunter’s shirt. Hunter snatched his wrists before he could make any headway with the shirt.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsk</span>
  </em>
  <span>ed at Fitz and held his hands in between them, kissing along his chest again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Behave, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I don’t want to behave?” Fitz asked challengingly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have to punish you then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way those words rolled off Hunter’s tongue sent electricity down Fitz’s spine and he leaned into Hunter, tugging gently at his grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Punish me, then,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Fitz said. He knew that he came across as inexperienced and coltish in regards to sex, especially when he had trouble articulating it, but he wasn’t. He knew what he wanted, and he wanted to see what fantastic punishment Hunter would come up with for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I tell you what I’m going to do to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nodded excitedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to lay you across my lap, and spank you like the bad boy you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unintentionally, Fitz let out a noise he couldn’t immediately describe, something like need made vocal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lay out you so your pretty little cock is right up against my thighs so I can feel how hard and aching you are, how much you’re enjoying it. Won’t touch you until you’re desperate, and I’ll finally fuck you into the bed so good that you’ll forget your attitude.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter leaned in and kissed Fitz’s chest again, slow and sweet as if he wasn’t just promising to spank Fitz until he came apart. Fitz was delighted and surprised when Hunter shifted back on the bed to make room in his lap.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Fitz breathed, climbing onto Hunter’s lap eagerly, which made Hunter laugh lightly. He settled with his legs straddled across Hunter’s, holding himself steady by Hunter’s shoulders.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is supposed to be a punishment,” he said without any heat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Do you want me to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, no, don’t, sir, not a spanking</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a little shit,” Hunter chuckled. “You’re definitely not coming until I tell you to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Fitz asked and Hunter didn’t respond, only leaned in and kissed underneath Fitz’s jaw. He couldn’t help leaning so Hunter had better access to his throat, sliding his hands up to rest on Hunter’s neck. “Mr. I Want to Give You All of the Orgasms is suddenly stingy on giving me orgasms, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not usually this naughty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, but you thought it was endearing before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter licked across Fitz’s pulse point and he whimpered, gripping Hunter’s neck. Every new touch was sublime, thrilling through Fitz as if he’d never been touched before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the years of sex with Grant and it had never felt like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I been a naughty boy, Mr. Hunter?” Fitz asked, trying for teasing but his voice dipping and coming out much more sincere. Hunter leaned in and nipped at his jaw gently.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have been. You’ve been particularly naughty, and I’m going to have to punish you for your insolence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Fitz breathed out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter sat back even further on the bed, and then guided Fitz to lay down across his lap as promised, his cock edging quickly towards achingly hard as he was pressed into Hunter’s denim-covered thighs. Without even having been touched, Fitz had to bite back a groan and keep himself from grinding down into the fabric.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter made a noise, and Fitz looked over his shoulder at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything alright back there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, yes,” Hunter replied, and shifted Fitz one more time so his hips were directly on Hunter’s thigh instead of awkwardly hanging off. He had a good instinct for making Fitz the most comfortable. “Tell me to stop if you’ve had enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first hit took Fitz by surprise, not because it hurt but because he hadn’t expected the combination of Hunter’s hand sharp against his ass and the way he was rocked a little into Hunter’s thigh, the burn of his jeans enticing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t stop the gasping moan he let out as the second came in the same spot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naughty boy,” Hunter murmured, and Fitz let his head drop, forehead resting against the bedspread. Hunter found a steady rhythm, rocking Fitz a little with each strike. Between the friction against his cock, pressed between him and Hunter’s firm thigh, and the surprisingly sweet sting of the hits, Fitz felt an orgasm stirring already, churning hot in his belly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Fitz whined, gripping the bedspread below him. “Hunter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that, baby?” Hunter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to come if you don’t stop.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I want you to.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I want to come with your cock inside me,” Fitz challenged. Hunter let out a humming chuckle and another slap to the sensitive spot where his ass gave way to his thigh caught him off guard and he moaned, dropping his head to the bedspread again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ask me nicely, baby boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, fuck me, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that you have been punished enough?” Hunter teased. “Are you sorry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Fitz breathed, “I am sorry. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter leaned over and kissed one of the stinging areas sweetly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On your hands and knees, sweet boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz intentionally shifted against Hunter’s leg to relieve the tension in his belly the slightest bit as he pushed himself up onto his knees. Hunter chuckled but didn’t scold him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Hunter said, moving to get the lube from the bedside table. “Look at you, how hard you are for me. Give yourself a few strokes. You earned them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz obliged, holding himself up with one hand while he stroked himself slowly with the other.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me your hand,” Hunter said, which Fitz did. He dispensed a small amount of lube into his palm. “There, make yourself feel good, my good boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over and kissed Fitz’s shoulder while he reached below himself and stroked his cock with the slick lube.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whined. “God, fuck –” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut himself off so he didn’t sound entirely desperate, even if he was.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me hear you. You know I like to hear you make noise for me. Loud as you please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz twisted his hand around the tip and let out a whimpering moan shaped like Hunter’s name, fucking down into his hand.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Hunter praised gently, stroking down his spine which Fitz arched into desperately. He left a kiss between Fitz’s shoulder blades, his body covering Fitz’s back like a blanket. “I’m going to work you open now. Sit still for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up, the warmth of his body leaving and Fitz almost chased it except that Hunter had told him to sit still, and he could do that. He could always sit still for that. Hunter was incredibly thorough and always left Fitz’s knees trembling when he was done.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter started with one finger and then worked his way up to fucking him open with three, drawing desperate moans from Fitz. With anyone else, he might have felt ashamed at how pathetic he sounded, moaning openly and wantonly, but this was Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck me," Fitz managed, barely a breath out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What was that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck me," he said more confidently. Hunter withdrew his fingers and leaned down to leave a sweet kiss right where a majority of his hits had landed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How can I deny you when you sound like that, Leo?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz loved the way Hunter said his name in their bed, low and deep, huskier than when they were in public. Hunter had pulled that voice on him once outside when they were in the car. Fitz had nearly combusted sitting there thinking about Hunter railing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do you want it? On your hands and knees like this? On your back?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed along the base of Fitz's spine, tracing it upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"On my back," Fitz breathed. "Want to see you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good," Hunter replied. "On your back, then. Come here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shifted around and plopped almost carelessly onto his back, making Hunter laugh. He loved to hear Hunter laugh, loved the little crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God, you're gorgeous," Hunter muttered and Fitz propped himself up on his elbows to be able to kiss Hunter. "I'm so blessed to have you here in bed with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Even when I'm being naughty?" Fitz teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you are being naughty."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter efficiently slicked his own cock, and adjusted Fitz's thighs so he fit between them. He left a small kiss on the inside of Fitz's thigh as a gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you comfortable?" Hunter asked, slipping an extra pillow underneath his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I'm good," Fitz said as Hunter finally settled himself up against him. "I'm so fucking ready, Lance."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wonderful," Hunter said, leaning over him and propping himself up on one hand, kissing Fitz gently, while he lined himself up and pressed against Fitz's entrance. Fitz watched Hunter's face, always intrigued to see the pleasure pass over his features. He was always careful of what he put forward when they were in public, but Fitz loved to see that wall breakdown for him in private, the raw openness he shared with Fitz. Hunter in private was something stunning, and Fitz could lay like this forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, the look of bliss and enjoyment on Hunter’s face was easily Fitz’s favorite sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz leaned up for another kiss, wanting to be entirely connected with Hunter, surrounded and a part of him. He ran his hands over Hunter’s skin, his favorite activity even outside of sex, but feeling the aroused heat underneath his hands was so nice and comforting. He curled his hands around Hunter’s hips, a favorite place on Hunter’s body, and after a moment of consideration, pulled him closer, feeling the slide of Hunter's cock inside of him with that motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Holy shit," Hunter groaned. "You're so perfect, baby. So perfect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hunter moved his hips, it was with purpose and precision. It was some kind of magic, an inherent skill that Hunter possessed, exact and wonderful. Fitz moaned openly into Hunter's mouth, and squeezed his hips. The noise Hunter made was delicious, a satisfied groan across Fitz's skin, pressing kisses into his throat and collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter hooked one of Fitz's legs around his waist so as he thrust into him, he had control of Fitz's body, and Fitz was a live wire with every movement. He could implode at any moment, and all he could do was hold onto Hunter and enjoy each sensation. Each little thrust into him sent a ripple through him ending with a moan. Hunter left small kisses down his throat, precise and sloppy somehow simultaneously, his own quiet moans muffled into Fitz's skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leo," he whispered, and Fitz wanted to fall apart with him, fall together, fall forever, fall until there was no start to Lance Hunter or end to Leo Fitz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Leo sounded so good on Hunter's lips. He didn't want to be anyone when he could be tangled together like this with him. He was caught up in the rolling waves of pleasure and sensation, of being with Hunter where no one else could reach them, where the rest of the world didn't exist, his orgasm creeping ever closer. When it sprung, it was hot and blinding, and he had enough wherewithal to pull Hunter down into a bruising kiss, or else he might actually scream his name. He wouldn't care usually, but they were in a hotel room paid for by their employer, and they didn't need that getting back to their bosses somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter fucked him through his orgasm, steady and confident, but clearly on the edge, pants coming in bursts from him into Fitz's space. Fitz's limbs were jelly, but he still had his hands hooked around the back of Hunter's neck, and he stroked his fingers against the nape of his neck. A moan rippled between them on Hunter's next thrust, not starting anywhere, coming from them both at once. He would gladly ride this high forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, love," Fitz whispered, voice ripped apart from the amount of noise he'd made. "Come for me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter groaned into his space, almost wordless, curling down into Fitz, gasping his name only. He was incredibly beautiful, and Fitz could stay there forever, Hunter mid-orgasm on top of him. He wanted Hunter inside of him like this, filling him in a way that felt intentional, by design. He hadn't ever wanted someone to come inside of him, but he did with Hunter. When he settled, hips coming to a stop finally, he let out a chuckle and kissed Fitz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're so goddamn beautiful," Hunter muttered, releasing the back of his thigh and pulling out of his carefully. Fitz settled into the cushions of their bed, ready to sleep after a deeply satisfying orgasm. Hunter, on shaky legs, climbed out of bed to grab a washcloth from the bathroom. He cleaned them both up before settling into the bed himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, you,” Hunter said, bundling Fitz into his arms against his chest. Fitz went happily, cuddling in. Hunter stroked down his side gently, kissing his forehead. “You okay? Did I hurt you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz shifted, confused.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that the point of spanking?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes and no. There’s a line between pleasure and me straight out hurting you. You know that, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter sat up and brought Fitz with him, frowning.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve checked with you beforehand, but I assumed that Grant – you said that – has he – not the point. This is about you, not him. I didn’t hurt you, right? I didn’t go too far?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sat up all the way so his weight was resting on his backside, testing. He still remembered the ache and sting from Grant’s hand radiating up his spine. He’d been uncomfortable for days, but he could rest back without that pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you didn’t go too far, I’m okay. Why – why do you care?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter made a face that Fitz didn’t like, upset and incredulous simultaneously.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I care if I hurt you, Fitz. I care about you, and your well-being, and your safety. It’s – has Grant never taken care of you after sex?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He hasn’t – he hasn’t needed to. We haven’t done anything that requires after care. He’s never tied me up or anything like that. I mean, he spanked me once or twice, but it was a punishment, so we didn’t – why are you looking at me like that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Hunter sighed and shuffled forward on the bed until he was in Fitz’s space. “We should be taking care of each other even after the most vanilla sex. After care is a part of sex, and I want to check in with you to make sure you enjoyed it, and that I didn’t hurt you in any way. Even after a punishment like that, he should have taken care of you and made sure you were okay, that you weren’t hurt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz looked Hunter over, studying his earnest expression and fidgeting hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t, and that’s – hurt me, that is. I’ve never had this, this whatever it is, and I – I forgot that you’re supposed to enjoy sex, all of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t enjoy sex with him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz didn't have to consider it anymore, not after several displays from Hunter to compare with Grant's, and he shook his head slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is a problem,” Hunter said. “And with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, yes,” Fitz said immediately without having to think about it. That made Hunter laugh, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you let me take care of you, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I’m sorry, I’m not used to this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to apologize for, love. I know you’re not. Come snuggle in with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz let Hunter sweep him into his arms and into the pillows, curled together.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do want you to stop me if we go too far, okay? Not just when we do something like today, spanking or tying you up, anything, but also just in our relationship. You tell me to stop or slow down if you’re not comfortable, and I will. You’re more important than any orgasm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same goes for you, mister,” Fitz said, kissing Hunter’s chest gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You planning on spanking me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you ask me to,” he replied, running a hand up Hunter’s chest reverently. There were scars on his chest and stomach, which Fitz traced over every time he got his hands on Hunter. He was so grateful for them, marks left by Hunter’s survival. He kissed Hunter’s skin again and sighed contentedly as Hunter stroked slow passes down his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someday,” Hunter said, “I’ll let you tie me up and do whatever you want to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever I want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhm, my body will be completely yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz hummed, nuzzling into Hunter’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve certainly got some ideas,” he replied but didn’t elaborate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do like the sound of that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d let you do almost anything to me if you wanted, as long as part of it included your mouth on my cock at some point.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled and rested his cheek against Hunter’s chest again, gentle and comforting. In the short time they’d been together, he’d found a lot of care and comfort in Hunter’s arms, in his presence. He felt like something of a safe space, a place to return to after a long day. He tried to think of a time Grant felt like that. He had, hadn’t he?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz wasn’t sure, though, laying against Hunter like this. But it didn’t matter, he had Hunter now anyway. It didn't matter what was in his past as long as he was looking forward. His future was with Hunter, for as long as Hunter would have him, and if he was lucky, that would be for the rest of his life. If he was lucky, the rest of his life would be long and uneventful. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Friday May 24th, 4:37pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>What the fuck Fitz</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Hey what the fuck Fitz</span>
  
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I understand the name of this group chat now </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Were you going to tell us about Walters?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz</b>
  <span>: Uhhh no?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>😒</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>It's not that big of a deal. It was a rather sorry attempt in the first place. The machine would have had to be on for that to hurt me, and I'm not an idiot who goes crawling into an automated machine while it's on in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>And you let him go crawling into stuff, Hunter?!?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I don't know if you know this, but Fitz is notoriously hard to convince not to do something.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>That's actually extremely true</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>And then! Not to tell us that someone inside Shield is trying to hurt you too? What are we supposed to do to protect you if we don't know?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>What are you going to do to protect me anyway? You're in England. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: I have access to the world's most advanced security systems</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Not legally</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Legality is subjective</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>What? No, it isn't</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy</b>
  <span>: The point is, if someone decides try and to kill you, your best friends deserve to know about it</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>Okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Yes ma'am</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>That goes for you too, Hunter</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I'm sick of hearing everything through company gossip</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Yes ma'am</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The flight from New York to California was starting to feel like a commute more than anything. After work, they packed up their bags and made it to the Rochester airport with plenty of time to spare. They got dinner and found a dark corner to sit together in while they waited for their flight to board. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Favorite movie?” Fitz asked, twirling one of the lollipops he’d brought for the flight between two fingers before sticking it in his mouth to suck on. He didn’t miss the way Hunter’s eyes tracked his movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh, it’s actually The Princess Bride,” Hunter replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why you couldn’t believe I’d never seen it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Hunter said. “You keep sucking that lollipop like that, we’re going to have to find a single bathroom somewhere so you can put that mouth to use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz winked at his as he purposefully sucked on the lollipop, almost hollowing his cheeks around it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a goddamn menace, Leo,” Hunter replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held out the lollipop to Hunter who let Fitz pop it between his lips, and Fitz felt the moment Hunter’s tongue curled around the candy end, the stick shifting and taking tension that hadn’t been there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I actually expected you to say Ocean’s Eight given your fierce defense that it’s the greatest heist movie ever,” he continued, letting go of the lollipop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Hunter said, speech a little slurred as he spoke around the lollipop. Fitz let himself enjoy this moment, before Hunter pulled the lollipop free. “But Mum and I used to watch The Princess Bride together before she did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really sweet,” Fitz said. “I actually love that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you hadn’t seen it before,” Hunter said. “That’s just blasphemy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz just shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The last five years, I’ve watched whatever Grant wanted to watch. And before that, it was football matches and science documentaries. And Doctor Who,” Fitz said. “Jemma and I make sure to watch Doctor Who when we can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a nerd,” Hunter said, “the best kind of nerd, and I lo-ike, like that about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to have to learn to enjoy it, you know, the nerd stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter drew him in closer with a hand in his t-shirt, and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that nasty Man U thing? Do I have to like that, too?” Hunter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more nasty than liking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liverpool</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all teams,” Fitz replied, willingly staying in Hunter’s space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey now, you watch your mouth, mister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz kissed Hunter first, and he could taste the lingering sweetness of the lollipop on his tongue as he slipped it past Fitz’s lips. This was more than Fitz was usually comfortable with in public, but they were set away from the rest of the airport at a quiet gate, in the corner where the lights were off, and it felt nice to just be with him. He put his hand on Hunter's chest and eased them both back, though, before it went too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Hunter muttered. "Too much?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz pressed a kiss to his nose quickly, and replied, "no, it was perfect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter shifted them so Fitz's legs were thrown over his lap, absently running his hands down his shins and up his calves. The back of Fitz's knees were always notoriously ticklish, and he noticed Hunter's touch went lighter as he passed the area, or he'd circle around it entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your favorite movie, then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Does a documentary count?" Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is it movie length? Not a docuseries?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, single movie length film."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, sure," Hunter said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's this documentary, Monkey Kingdom that came out a few years ago. It's really well made and I don't get to watch it often because, well, I'm sure you can guess why, but it's really soothing. It's - I've always liked monkeys and - oh, this one time for my birthday, Jemma took me to this small zoo where you could pay for an experience with an animal, and she paid for me to get to hold and play with a monkey."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz knew he was talking too much, and about an unrelated topic, and maybe he should stop, but Hunter had that soft affection in his eyes again. The one that led to </span>
  <em>
    <span>lo-ike</span>
  </em>
  <span> before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't slick. Fitz knew what he was avoiding saying, tripping over the words. He probably didn't want to pressure or rush Fitz, which was an unbearably Hunter thing to do. It made sense, too. Technically they had only been together for a week, so it wouldn't be socially acceptable to say it so early, but it wasn't like it wasn't true. And to be fair, they'd spent every day together for nearly two months. They'd been at each other's sides from morning until night long enough that it accumulated to several months worth of dates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz ran the numbers quick in his head. They'd spent somewhere close to four hundred hours together since they'd met. If you spend a few hours with a new person twice a week when you start dating, Fitz and Hunter had been on over fifty dates. They'd done all the date stuff, too, the getting to know you, the food, the adventures, the flirting. Hell, Fitz had brought Hunter home to meet his mum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if Hunter felt weird saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> already, maybe Fitz should too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'll have to watch it next time we have the chance," Hunter said. Fitz looked up, having lost himself in his thoughts. He wasn't sure when he'd stopped talking but Hunter didn't seem to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You mean it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course. I'd watch anything you want, as long as it's not Manchester United."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mmm, I don't know if this is going to work out," Fitz teased. "I don't know if I can date a Liverpool fan."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter cocked his eyebrow in that strangely unique </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hunter</span>
  </em>
  <span> way he did it, and then his wicked fingers found the back of Fitz's knees. Fitz let out a surprise cackle of a sound and tried to jump away but got stuck on the arm rest behind him. Hunter grinned and dragged him back in to kiss him quiet. Fitz gladly sank into it, content to be quiet in this space with him.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It was well after midnight when they landed in California. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should I take you home?" Hunter asked as they got into Hunter's car in the airport parking garage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I'm gonna try and talk to Grant this weekend. He had something he wanted to talk about on Tuesday before we left, so I should have that conversation with him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, let me make sure Idaho is going to be there, then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who took care of Fig while we were gone?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Mack and Elena still. Mack has the spare key to my apartment and came to pick her up after he closed the garage on Tuesday."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter opened his phone and showed Fitz a picture from a group chat he was in of Fig curled up into a little cat croissant on Elena's lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's adorable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Hunter agreed. "I'll pick her up tomorrow, or later today, I guess. Hopefully we'll have some time here at home so she can settle in again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz held the apology in, even as it wanted to trip off his tongue. It wasn't his fault that someone wanted to kill him. It wasn't his fault that someone had lured him to New York, and thus taking Hunter with him away from Fig again. It wasn't his fault, and he was sure Hunter would immediately jump to remind him of that, but that didn't mean Fitz didn't feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> for how often Fig and Hunter were apart. He was the reason Hunter had been away from home for weeks, that Fig had to stay with Mack and Elena instead of with her dad. If Fig had been a kid instead of a cat, he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Fig was a cat. Hunter didn't do anything he didn't want to. Fitz wasn't at fault for someone trying to kill him. He ran the list through his mind on repeat like a mantra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Awful lot of thinking you're doing," Hunter said, putting his phone down and starting the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine," Fitz said. "Just some helpful thoughts I'm working through."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter reached over the console, setting his hand on Fitz's knee and gave it a small squeeze. Fitz smiled back at him. It was a little drive back to their city from the airport, so Fitz settled in, watching the street lights go by. He must have dozed off, because one moment they were driving along the highway, and the next Hunter was gently shaking him awake, parked out front of his apartment building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Hunter said softly in the quiet of the car. "There you are. Hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," Fitz mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz blinked up at the apartment building and wrinkled his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I know, but you should go upstairs. Text me or call me if you need anything, okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz leaned over the console, and in the shadow of the apartment building, where anyone could see, he kissed him. Hunter chuckled and stroked a thumb over his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Talk to your husband, and we can do that all weekend," Hunter said, drawing away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright," Fitz grumbled. "I'm going. Under protest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your protest is noted. You know where to reach me if you need me, for anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey. Leo." Fitz turned his eyes back to Hunter. "I'm five minutes away, okay? I'm five minutes away if you need anything at all. If you're hungry, or can't sleep, or bored, whatever it is, you call me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter drew him back in for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Be safe, okay?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You too."</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Grant was asleep on the couch when Fitz let himself into the apartment, the TV on, casting a soft glow over his face. Fitz armed the security system and took care of his bags as quietly as possible before returning to the living room. He touched Grant’s arm gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant,” he said gently, not wanting to startle him. He’d done that a few times over the years and, luckily, he’d gotten quick reflexes. “Hey, I’m home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cracked open an eye at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he croaked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should go to bed,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was waiting up for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Didn’t do a great job, huh, sleepy,” Fitz said and there was a lighthearted teasing in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long week,” Grant replied. He caught Fitz’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Can we talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we talk in the morning?” Fitz said. “I’m exhausted, and you deserve my full attention, not me falling asleep mid-sentence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, oay,” Grant said, suppressing a yawn. “Will you come to bed with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Grant with his sad eyes, and he couldn’t say no. It was just sleeping in bed together, it didn’t have to go anywhere or mean anything. It could just be for companionship; despite Grant’s shortcomings as a husband, he’d always been good at snuggling at night, a constant heat against Fitz’s back. Maybe Fitz’s nightmares would stay away with Grant’s arms around him like that. Would Grant understand his nightmares if he had them that night? Grant had had plenty of his own over the years, and Fitz had been there to soothe them, even to his own detriment. There had been a few violent ones over their relationship, where Grant lashed out as he came to, and Fitz was unlucky enough to get a fist to the face on accident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he agreed. “But no trying to do anything else, okay? No sex, just sleeping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He used their conjoined hands to lead Grant towards the bedroom. Grant turned Fitz around at the bedroom door, and stepped close to him. Before Fitz could warn him of the rules, Grant hugged him tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he muttered and brought his arms up around Grant’s waist. “That’s really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant chuckled and kissed Fitz on the top of the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re okay, Leo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard something happened in New York,” Grant said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you hear that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that I know Tripp, right?” Grant said. “I knew him through Garrett, he mentored Tripp too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz made a noise unintentionally in the back of his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay, though?” Grant asked, leading the conversation away from Garrett.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I have a great security team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed kisses over Fitz’s hairline and forehead, and tipped his chin up to kiss him sweetly. This was the thing Fitz was trying to avoid. The kisses were great. The issues had always been great. Even when the sex was formulaic or basic, even when Grant pushed boundaries, the kisses were brilliant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not as brilliant as Hunter’s, of course, but no one’s really would be. He was entirely unique among any partner Fitz had ever had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the kisses he shared with Grant were the main reason Fitz had decided to keep seeing him at the top of the relationship. Fitz let Grant press him into the frame of the door, hands moving to push up under his shirt, one hand on his belly as he breathed. Fitz tipped his head back and let himself go, Grant’s hand and the frame the only thing keeping him standing. Grant groaned into his mouth and pressed in closer, half-hard in his sweatpants against Fitz’s hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, wait, hold on,” Fitz breathed, pressing Grant back enough to break the kiss. Grant leaned in again and kissed him. He almost couldn’t remember why he had wanted to stop. This was his husband. This was their home. They hadn’t had sex in a month or more, which was bizarre for them. Except…. “Grant, wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d said no, and Grant was still kissing him. Fitz had never really said no to him before, not in the moment like this. But he didn’t want to get carried away like they usually did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant,” he said firmer, pushing Grant’s chest until he moved back a step. “I said no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he muttered, raising his hands off of Fitz and raising them in the air. “Sorry. I forgot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can be good,” Grant muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you? Because this is not </span>
  <em>
    <span>being good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This is pointedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I miss you. I miss you being here, and making dinner with you, and falling asleep next to you. I miss kissing you, and just being with you. We got into that fight, and I barely got to see you before you were gone again, off doing your job. We definitely haven’t spent that much time apart since we got together, and I don’t want to miss you, Leo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant, this doesn’t change what I said before,” Fitz replied. “I think we need some serious time apart. You need to think, and not about the way you miss undressing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not all this is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to sleep in the spare room,” he said softly. “That’s probably for the best.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leopold,” Grant groaned. “Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz ducked out of Grant’s arms and headed for the spare room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had one request, and you couldn’t even follow that. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped into the spare room and closed the door behind him. On the other side, he heard Grant sigh and set his hand against the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” Grant said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Grant.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Saturday May 25th, 2:12 am</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Hey I hope I’m not waking you</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>But I just wanted to hear your voice </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Run in with Grant?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Yeah</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Want me to call you?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Please</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone rang and he immediately answered it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey gorgeous,” Hunter replied. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re certainly a sweetheart.” There was a pause as Hunter shifted in bed. “Do you want me to come get you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just want to snuggle,” Fitz accused lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely, love, and so much more. The things that I would do to you if you were here. Starting with unbuttoning all of your clothes and letting you come to bed with me for the rest of our goddamn lives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A warm afternoon in the sun, laying in bed, curled around each other, that sounds perfect to me. Doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does,” Fitz agreed. He stripped out of his travel clothes and changed into his pajamas while they talked. “My birthday is coming up. We should do that on my birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How coming up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Middle of August.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” Hunter replied. Fitz climbed into bed and snuffled into the pillows as if they were Hunter’s arms. “Wish you were here though. It’s weird sleeping alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fig there with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m starting to think you’re dating me for my cat, Leo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not exclusively. I’m also dating you for your body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, I stand corrected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed and said, “I just meant that you’re not sleeping alone if you have Fig there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True, but consider, you and Fig are not interchangeable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snuggling her is not the same as snuggling you. What would be perfect though is you right here with me and Fig, all of us together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds great,” Fitz said with a yawn. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be. You need some rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I have another nightmare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just a call away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I absolutely promise, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz said, and there was a quiet that fell over them. He desperately wanted to tell Hunter that he loved him, that he loved him so deeply that it didn’t make sense. He didn’t, just let the silence stretch on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Leo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was soft, almost like he was saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz closed his eyes and let himself imagine that reality instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, he replied, “goodnight, Lance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, too</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He was foolish to think the nightmares would be gone. There was a dark unending expanse that Fitz couldn't walk through. He tried to take a step and was stuck, rooted in place, as if the soles of his feet were sewn into the ground he couldn't see. There was a mechanical whirring, a clunking, a screeching somewhere in the distance, and Fitz wanted to go to it to see what was going on. His curiosity said he had to find out, so he tried to wrench himself from the ground. A shadowy figure lurked just out of view, and when Fitz tried to turn his head, there was a flash of light off something metallic in the figure's hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wrench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadowy figure stepped forward towards Fitz, and in its other hand, he saw the outline of a gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to pull away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for his leg like he could pull it free that way, but he was frozen. He was trapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunman was getting closer, still cloaked in inky shadows. He whimpered, and begged it not to hurt him. He didn't do anything. He didn't. He was just doing his job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was Hunter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was Grant?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was anyone who had promised to protect him? He was alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone and vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood dripped off the wrench, a plop against the ground, loud and echoing. His blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was everywhere then, bright and red. It dripped into his eyes, and when he lifted his hand up to find the source, they were covered in blood too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not his blood, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a figure at his feet, laying on their side, motionless. There was a pool of blood underneath them. Fitz couldn't see their face, but he knew who it was. They were hurt, and it was Fitz's fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached down for them, but he couldn't reach them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were hurt, they were dying, and Fitz was unable to help. This was all his fault. All his fault.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was alone, and they were dying, and no one was there to save them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz woke up alone, alone and scared, and he couldn’t breathe, and he was alone, and Hunter – he couldn’t invite Hunter over to his house when Grant was – where was Grant? Grant was supposed to be home. Wait, was he? Fitz didn't know. He wasn't there. Hunter wasn't there. He was alone. He was alone. Was he? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz got up and, knees trembling, stumbled out of the spare bedroom. The master bedroom door was open, the lights off, the bed empty. His breathing was too quick, and he could taste his heartbeat, and he couldn’t find his husband. He wanted – Grant could take care of himself, of course, and Fitz knew that. He needed to calm down. There wasn’t an immediate threat as far as he could tell. He’d seen Idaho outside the night before, and Tripp would be there that morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his phone into the bathroom just in case and started the shower. The hot water should relax him, and the routine should calm his anxiety. In theory. He really just wanted Hunter’s arms strong around him like they’d been in London, like they'd been in New York.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might not be the best idea, but Fitz dialed Hunter’s phone number despite the time, despite having only hung up with him a few hours ago, and sat on the tub edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz?” he asked, groaning at the early hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he said, and he flinched at how small his voice sounded, broken and scared, like he was a fragile china doll held together with scotch tape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the bed springs below Hunter squeak and he said, “are you okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m – no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you? Are you safe?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m at home. Grant’s not here, and I woke up alone, and –” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breathe, baby,” Hunter replied gently. “You’re not alone. I’m here, and Tripp is outside. Remember, Tripp, doorman, elevator, security system. You have your phone, you can call for help, call Tripp. You're okay. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” Fitz whispered, because he did. He knew that as well as he knew himself, as well as he knew Hunter. Hunter wouldn't let anyone hurt him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to come over?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz said. “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m on my way. Is your security system armed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I armed it last night but I didn’t check since. I'm. I think, I think Grant left this morning or last night, so maybe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you check it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can move.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. I’ll be right over. Do you want me to stay on the line?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll be okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a deep breath, baby. You’re okay. You’re safe, and no one is going to get you at home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Okay. I’m okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there in five minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It takes longer than that to get to mine from yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five minutes,” Hunter replied steadily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five minutes.” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>True to his word, Hunter was there in five minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fitz,” he called. Fitz had managed to open the bathroom door, sitting on the floor, knees tucked into his chest. His breathing was incredibly uneven, but he wasn’t feeling faint yet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter followed his voice into the bathroom and dropped down in front of Fitz, shutting the door so they were alone and protected, another layer between him and anyone who wanted him out of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re trembling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, besides that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his forehead gently.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I woke up, and I couldn’t breathe, and I was – I kept thinking that there was a gun, and – I know I shouldn’t have woken you up for this, but.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolutely should have woken me up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in and gathered Fitz into his arms, helping him into his lap and resting him against him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know, I didn’t think it would stay with me and I’d be afraid all of the time. I keep jumping at shadows, and loud noises, and -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off with a pathetic little noise in the back of his throat, one that burned shame into his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stay with you?” Hunter asked gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, of course, I want you to stay. I always want you to stay. You can’t, but I want you to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no problem staying as long as you need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But –” Fitz started, but Hunter stroked fingertips down Fitz’s arm and his argument was lost. It didn't matter if Grant came home and found them like this, except that it definitely did, but he couldn't bring himself to care when Hunter touched him like that, sweet and caring, carefully placed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They'd have to get through Tripp, the doorman, they'd have to find your apartment, get through your armed security system, and now they'd have to get through me. And you know I won't let anything happen to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Fitz muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tripp, the doorman, the elevator, the security system, and me," Hunter repeated, and Fitz tucked his head down into his chest. "No one's going to take you away from me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sighed and Hunter kissed his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's get you some place more comfortable, yeah? Were you staying in the spare bedroom?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter helped him stand up, keeping their hands clasped so he could lead him from the bathroom and into the spare bedroom, shutting the door and then locking it, another layer to counter. Hunter climbed into bed first, and then Fitz followed, tucking himself into Hunter's chest with his ear just above Hunter's heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tripp, the doorman, the elevator, the security system, the locked door, and me," Hunter muttered. "No one is going to get you. I'm here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He talked slowly, his voice even, comforting, like waves gently rocking him to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lance?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, Leo?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll stay with me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All night. For as long as you need me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You won't get sick of me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How could I possibly get sick of you, love?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A lot of people do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not a lot of people, though. I'm here with you, Leo. I'm here with you. I choose to be here with you. And I will continue to choose to be here with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz made a noise of contentment unintentionally, but he meant it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have an appointment with Dr. Jill on Monday,” he said. “She wants me to come in twice a week until I feel more comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Hunter replied. “That’s a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I have to leave work early, but maybe after, we can get some dinner?” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you asking me on a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds wonderful, actually. Do you have a place in mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz nuzzled into Hunter’s chest and said, “I might.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his forehead and said, “do you want to talk about the nightmare? Or do you want to be distracted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just the usual, you know? Shadowy figure, a gun, the wrench was there this time. And you were -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice broke and he let out a sigh instead. The figure at his feet hadn’t had a face, but he didn’t need to see one to know. Hunter put his life on the line every day to protect Fitz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were lying at my feet. Bleeding,” Fitz forced out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m safe and unharmed,” Hunter replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz ran his hands down Hunter’s chest to feel him safe and whole, no bruises, no cuts, no abrasions, nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, love? All good. No one has hurt me,” Hunter said, “and you’re not at fault if they did. It’s my job to keep you alive, a job that I do willingly every day. I choose to be here with you, to be your security officer. Shield gave me the option of backing away, but I didn’t want it. I don’t want anyone else looking after you. I don’t trust anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You let Idaho and Tripp watch the building at night,” Fitz pointed out quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you got me there,” he replied. “There’s very few people I trust with your safety, then. Idaho, Tripp, and Hartley are probably the only ones I’d leave you with if I had to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t just let anyone be responsible for you when Hydra’s out here buying people’s loyalties, now can I? I trust Idaho, Izzy, and Tripp with my life, and that’s enough for me to trust them with yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Fitz sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I’m glad you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz drifted off in Hunter’s arms, unconcerned with the world outside of this little room. When he woke up in the morning, he crept out of the room to check to see if Grant had returned home before he let Hunter sneak out of the apartment safely, unbothered. He kissed Hunter once before he left, lingering in Hunter’s space with a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be safe,” Hunter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even that, those words he’d said to him every time they’d parted, even that started to sound like </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Fitz’s ears. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>Saturday May 25th, 12:37 pm</b>
</p><p><b>Grant: </b><span>Don’t get mad at me for this, but</span> <span>I have to do something with Garrett today</span></p><p>
  <b>Grant: </b>
  <span>Please be safe, okay?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I will</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Saturday May 25th, 12:59 pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Can I go for a walk?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>What</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Grant’s not coming home for a while, and I cannot stay in this apartment</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Can I please go for a walk?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Of course you can</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Is it Tripp or Idaho outside?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Uhh no</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>????????</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I’m actually outside</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz called him immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said casually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing outside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, it’s both Tripp’s day off, and Idaho’s, and I didn’t have anyone else in the roster to just call up, so I decided to take the post.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you outside instead of in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I did not want to be in your house when your husband came home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s fair. But,” Fitz said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No buts, Leo. If you want to go for a walk, we can do that. We absolutely can do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we go on a baby hike?” Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds great. I know of a little place outside of city limits nearby where we can go, might clear your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I hold your hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you have to ask.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Grant was home Sunday when Fitz woke up. He had been tempted to stay with Hunter, but he knew he should have this conversation with him eventually. Putting it off wouldn’t make it any better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Grant didn't seem interested in talking. He was withdrawn and sullen, and when Fitz tried to approach him, he'd blow him off or make some excuses why he couldn't talk. Fitz should have seen this coming, of course; this was Grant's post-Garrett behavior. Fitz had no idea what kind of projects Garrett needed help with, but every time Grant came home afterwards, he carried a rain cloud over his head like he'd done something wrong, or something wrong had been done to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you want for dinner?" Fitz asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not hungry," Grant grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have to eat something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Grant," Fitz started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Leo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you?" Fitz asked, unable to let this go. "You said you wanted to talk on Tuesday before I had to go to New York, but you haven't wanted to since I got home because you were off with Garrett. Every time you come home from being with Garrett, you're unpleasant and grumpy again. This is exactly the thing that I was talking about. Garrett stands in the middle of our marriage and you keep letting him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not that simple. I can't just send Garrett away," Grant said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why not?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I owe him more than you can know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not the rest of your life, not your marriage."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, the rest of my life. He - I was in jail when I met Garrett. I had tried to burn the house down with Christian inside, and Christian had me arrested, and they were going to try me as an adult. I was a kid, sixteen, and I was, I hadn't ever known love from my family. Everything was bad at home, and I wanted a way out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz frowned but didn't interrupt. How was he just hearing about this now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Garrett convinced the DA to release me into his custody, and let him mentor me. He ran this program for troubled boys and the DA knew him well, so they let me go without charging me. If it weren't for Garrett, I'd be in prison still. I owe him more than you can know, Leo. I can't just stop calling him or, or choose anything over him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not even your husband," Fitz stated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Grant said, "not even."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz had expected that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't stupid, he could see the puzzle pieces lining up perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn't mean it didn't hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you having an affair with Garrett?" Fitz asked. He wasn't sure why he asked. Nothing good would come from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Grant replied tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right. Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't have any room to be angry, technically, but he was. He was and he felt foolish. It had been there for so long, and Grant had shut him down at every turn, calling him crazy, saying he was being paranoid, or that he didn't trust Grant. And Fitz had let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For how long?" Fitz asked, voice cracking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leo," Grant sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The entire time, then. Probably before I ever felt weird about Garrett and you said there was nothing to be worried about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know if there's any salvaging this marriage, then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and left, going into the spare room and dialling while packing his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's up?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you come get me? I can't be in this apartment."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Absolutely. I'll be there in a couple minutes, I'm just around the corner."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz stuffed his clothes carelessly into his suitcase, and packed his work tablet carefully into his laptop bag. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Sunday May 26th, 4:57 pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Bus Kids</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Unrelated to what's going on with me and Hunter, I'm leaving Grant </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>He's apparently been fucking Garrett the entire time we've been together</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>🤮</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I always knew there was something weird going on there</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>Are you okay?</span>
</p><p><b>Fitz: </b><span>Yeah</span> <span>Hunter's on his way to get me </span></p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>I just feel really stupid for believing him every time he said there was nothing going on between him and Garrett</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jemma: </b>
  <span>I'm sorry Fitz</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>And I know I'm a hypocrite because I'm literally dating someone else right now but it still hurts that he's lied to me and made me feel insecure or insane for thinking he's sleeping with Garrett</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>I always got gaslight vibes from him tbh </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Daisy: </b>
  <span>From both of them</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Sunday May 26th, 5:03pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I'm outside</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Do you need me to come get you</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>No I should be okay</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz:</b>
  <span> I don't think he'll stop me </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunte</b>
  <span>r: Are you sure</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>🤷🏼‍♂️</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>Please be safe regardless</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Fitz stepped out of the spare bedroom, wheeling his suitcase behind him, Grant didn't try to stop him. He let him pass without a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd always known that when it came down to it, Grant would pick Garrett, but to see it in motion, to see the actual betrayal, felt like a knife had been shoved into his stomach and up into his chest. Fitz wanted to cry, but he kept going, pulling the apartment door shut behind him. Five years of hope and love wasted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took another step down the hall, and another, and let the five years drop behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five years versus the rest of his life, versus all of the years he had left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took another step. He felt freed.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get so much shit or this,” Hunter said as he called Idaho. Fitz had his head in Hunter’s lap, Fig curled up on his chest, while they waited for dinner to arrive. Hunter hadn’t bought groceries yet, so he’d decided to order in, even as he promised he would make Fitz dinner soon. “Hey Idaho. How’s it going? Good. So, here’s the thing, I don’t need you on Fitz’s apartment tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he talked and joked around with Idaho, he lazily ran his hand through Fitz’s curls. Fitz let his eyes slip closed, the repetitive motion soothing any remaining frayed nerves left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Fitz said after Hunter hung up, peeking an eye open at Hunter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Being here, letting me stay with you. It’s nice to have a safe place to land,” Fitz said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have to thank me for that, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not,” Fitz said, “but I want to anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter tipped his head to the side a little like he was studying Fitz in the most adorable way possible, and the words tumbled out of Fitz’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter looked at him for a moment, silent, unmoving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fig, shoo,” Hunter said instead of replying, and Fitz felt his heart drop. Fig leapt off Fitz’s chest, and he watched her go, confused. He didn’t feel the same, and he didn’t want his cat near Fitz either. “Good. Okay, Fitz, come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz sat up, and hesitated before shuffled closer, preparing himself for the rejection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hunter said suddenly, looking at his expression. “God, Jesus, I’m an idiot. I love you, too. Of course, I love you. I - there’s something I wanted to do that Fig just should not see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Fitz close for a kiss, and FItz melted into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Hunter muttered again. “I’ve been trying so hard not to say it first because you’re married and I don’t want to rush you. I fell in love with you the first time we went to Kentucky, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were talking about gravitonium, and I was sitting there thinking about how I could listen to you talk forever about literally nothing and I’d be content. And then, what really solidified it was Jemma and Daisy, and you looked right at home with them, and I thought about how it would be to have that all the time, living in a little flat in London, having them over for game night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz climbed into Hunter’s lap and kissed him fiercely, because they literally fell in love at the same time. It seemed unreal and yet, it made sense. They’d fit together from the start. Fitz wasn’t known for his charming personality, so it was certainly a miracle that Hunter liked him at all, or tried to get to know him to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter’s hands pushed up his shirt, and slowly, between frantic kisses, they undressed each other, and Hunter flipped Fitz carefully onto his back underneath him, kissing over his skin. Just as Hunter was about to take Fitz in his mouth, there was a knock at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, dinner,” Hunter hissed. “Stay here, baby boy. I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Fitz watched Hunter pull his sweatpants on and head for the door, trying his best to hide his erection from the delivery driver. He tipped generously from what Fitz could tell from the driver’s response. Hunter came back, setting the bags onto the coffee table and climbing back onto the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want first, dinner or for me to suck you off?” Hunter asked, kissing along Fitz’s stomach.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we do both?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hunter said. “Well, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, dinner can wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, I was really hoping you’d say that.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Monday morning, Hunter was pulled into a meeting that seemed to never end. In his stead, Isabelle Hartley hung around Fitz’s office while he worked. Weaver set him a meeting invite which was to start immediately, and the subject was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>Urgent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fitz rose and found himself at Weaver’s door, tapping gently on the frame to get her attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Fitz, please come in. Hartley, you can stay outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close the door, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz closed the door behind him and took his seat across from Weaver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, I have some disturbing news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a slow breath and nodded, not sure what he dreaded the most, or if he could even begin to contemplate what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>disturbing news</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be. His thoughts immediately just went to Hunter, and why he was in a meeting with Gonzales for so long. He wasn't hurt, of course, because Hunter was in the heart of Shield headquarters surrounded by security officers just like himself. That didn't mean his heart didn't jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe it was Jemma and Daisy across the world from him. They were Shield employees as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leveled a look at him before she turned the monitor around to face him, and he froze. On a popular tech website they all frequented, there were Fitz’s early designs to the model in production, and based on the image, they were clearly scanned from his physical sketches instead of some of his renditions in the design application Shield had given the engineering teams. He couldn’t fathom that. He couldn't understand what he was looking at for a moment, and just blinked at the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is that -” he started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not sure where the leak came from. We have our best team on it, but it seems that the source that provided these to the press came from a subsidiary of Hydra Technologies. The worrying part for me, however, and for you, is that these are some </span>
  <em>
    <span>old </span>
  </em>
  <span>designs, Fitz. You understand, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is extremely concerning for corporate security, you understand as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So please take no offense to this, because I only ask out of protocol, but did you leak this design, Fitz?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course not," he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Fitz had wanted to leak a product schematic to the public, he'd leak the finished product, the stable, tested design. He wouldn't choose one of the earliest iterations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," Weaver replied. "Given that these are quite old and therefore obsolete, we imagine that these were taken by someone who might not have as in-depth a knowledge as you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Fitz agreed. "I believe you're right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have any ideas where this might have been leaked </span>
  <em>
    <span>from</span>
  </em>
  <span>?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do, but I want to confirm before I point fingers. It could be, uhh, quite damaging, if you would place yourself in my shoes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weaver nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That is understood."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then, would you mind if I skipped out early then? I want to get confirmation before I do anything else about this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, of course. Go ahead. We'll be releasing a statement about this. If you would keep an eye on your work email, and approve the statement when it arrives, that would certainly ease this entire process. It'll most likely be some corporate nonsense about how we are looking into this leak but we highly discourage any attempts at recreating the design from the schematics due to their unstable nature, as these were unfinished and untested. You know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," he said with a nod. They'd made a similar statement about the death threats that had come in and another when it got out to the press that someone had actually tried to murder him. They were good, the Shield Labs PR team. "Thank you for letting me know ahead of time, Doctor Weaver. It's good to know I have you in my corner after everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're one of our best and brightest, Fitz. Of course, I'm in your corner."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He excused himself from her office and met Hartley outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to grab a tea from the coffee cart down a floor. Do you want anything?" he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I should come with you," she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're in the middle of Shield Labs corporate headquarters. I'll be fine, I can grab a tea by myself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned but nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, don't do anything stupid. If you come back with tea burns on your hand or something, Hunter will scalp me, and I just got my hair the way I like it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't get you in trouble, I promise. Anything that happens, it's on me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let him step onto the elevator, and instead of pressing the next floor down, he pressed the lobby button. He had to go home.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Fitz let himself into the apartment without announcing himself. The security system didn't chirp at him, which made sense because Grant had always been a weapon in and of himself. He only armed the security system when Fitz was in the house, especially when he was leaving Fitz alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't try to be quiet as he went straight for the office. The door was open and the light was on, and there was Grant with a stack of papers on the desk in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know,” Grant was saying, and that’s when Fitz saw the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder while he moved. “I’m looking, but I’m telling you, he doesn’t keep his work at home. He’s really secretive about it. It’s probably because of Weaver, you know. Or Hand. Lord knows she’s been a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was quiet, and Fitz couldn’t move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no, I got it. I’ll try and get into the computer next, but you know Daisy encrypted it when - yes, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll see you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he hung up, Fitz should have left. That was all the confirmation that he needed. But he stayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck," Fitz finally said, voice barely a whisper in the quiet of the apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant looked up, startled. He'd never once managed to sneak up on Grant in the history of their marriage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not what it looks like,” Grant said immediately. Fitz let out a dry laugh, and stalked into the office. He stood at the side of the desk and looked at the papers, a stack of design sketches that Grant was looking through. They were all numbered precisely, dated, and signed with Fitz's particular design signature in the top left hand corner. He had a very neat way of organizing his work, and when he'd seen those leaked designs in Weaver's office, there was only one place he knew where he would have left those designs still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No? Are you sure about that?" he asked, and he could hear the ice in his own voice. "Because it looks like you got into our safe and found my portfolio for the early designs of the DWARFs, and they were mysteriously leaked to Hydra. But those weren’t enough for Hydra Tech, were they? They're not functional, they're dangerous, and I already did the work to figure out how to make them work. So now, you have to find the completed design to appease them. Am I right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant didn't say anything, just stared at Fitz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, you’re shit out of luck, Grant. I don’t bring work home anymore because you said you want my attention on you when I’m at home. I leave my work in the office instead of working on designs at home. So, congratulations, you played yourself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Leo," he started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz pulled the stack of sketches away from Grant, and surprisingly, he didn't fight Fitz for them. Of course, he didn't have to. These designs were useless. The early designs had a tendency to either not function at all due to a power issue or the power was fine but the computing system was unable to keep up and they had catastrophic meltdowns. Hydra was after the market ready designs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hydra, huh? That's who you actually work for. Not a bank. You and Garrett have been Hydra the entire time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No? Explain it to me, then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do work for Hydra, but - I can't tell you, Leo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you can. You've been lying to me for five years, so yes, you absolutely can and you should."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hydra placed me at the bank to keep an eye on their accounts and maybe get some insider information that might benefit them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's literally illegal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, but they're the reason we have this life. We don't pay rent, because Hydra owns this building."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz laughed, brittle and in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did they place you in this marriage too?" Fitz joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant didn't reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Grant?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Grant and his throat constricted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Grant</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Fitz said firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not, not our marriage itself, but Garrett pointed you out at the cafe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of the cafe flashed through him, the sunlight streaming through the windows while Fitz worked on his next big project for Shield. He needed to get these preliminary ideas to Weaver soon to okay his research, so he'd set aside a weekend afternoon to sit and work until they were completed. He was getting into a groove, and he could feel his mind begin to hyperfixate on the work, when the coffee spilled on him and jolted him out of it. The coffee…. Grant had never spilled anything in their entire relationship. That should have been a sign, and Fitz should have seen that for what it was, but he'd just been caught up in Grant's attention and wanting to get to know him that it hadn't ever registered. Now, it seemed so obvious, and he felt like an absolute fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus Christ."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz clutched the pages in his hands, feeling them crumple in his grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't, it wasn't supposed to be anything," Grant said. "I was just supposed to get close to you, and sleep with you, get you to trust me, and steal your work. But I really liked you, and you are incredibly hard to get info out of. Even when you talked about your work, I didn’t understand even half of it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's all been a lie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, it's -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me for five fucking years, Grant. About everything. About Garrett. About your job. About how we met. Is your name even Grant Ward or were you lying about that too? And what about the death threats? And the gunman? And the Shield employee with the wrench?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wasn’t lying about everything. I didn’t know about the threats, or the hits. I swear, those were completely separate from me. I - Look, I couldn't disobey Garrett but I wanted to tell you everything. I've always wanted to tell you the truth from the start, I wanted to ask you to come join us, but he said it would get him into trouble, and especially Hydra, and you wouldn’t join Hydra anyway, you’re so loyal to Shield Labs, so I had to, to -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To lie to me, to play me like a goddamn fiddle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t always that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was. I’m not stupid. I loved you enough that I refused to see it, but all the dancing around the future, and telling me I was crazy to think something was going on with you and Garrett, all of it was just to keep me docile and unaware.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if it was? Our marriage was good. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. We were happy for the longest time before you got your panties in a bunch about the future."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Panties in a - no, Grant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>were happy. You got a live in sex doll you could make do what you want and you didn't have to listen to anything because you're Grant Ward and you have the final say. Meanwhile, I've always wanted an actual future with you because for me, this was it. I just wanted you, and nothing else."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then we can work on this," Grant said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, we can't. This is, this is done. You know why? Because I fucked someone else, too," Fitz said, and the words were out before he could stop them. "And I realized what an actual relationship feels and looks like. They take care of you and listen to you and care about what you have to say without interrupting you. There's an actual path forward with them, and I deserve that. I don't have to walk on eggshells in fear of their anger, or their ego. They're good to me because they love me not because I'm a pawn in Hydra's little game to take over the world."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grant didn't speak for a moment and Fitz looked down at the crumpled designs in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're never going to get anywhere near the real designs, Grant," he said. "You lose."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to step away when Grant reached out and snatched his wrist. Panic flashed through him searing hot and cold simultaneously, and he was suddenly aware that Grant </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt him, and had every reason to. The threat wasn't just outside anymore. The threat was inside Shield. The threat was inside his </span>
  <em>
    <span>home.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He should have had Hunter there with him, or Hartley, someone stronger than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd spent enough time with Daisy and May over the years. He'd listened to May's self-defense lecture enough. He wasn't helpless. Fitz swung his hand up towards the inside of Grant's grip and then straight down, breaking his hold on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't touch me," Fitz snapped. When he stepped away this time, Grant let him go. Before he left, though, he took off the ring Grant had bought for him and tossed it to him. "There, you won't even have to buy a ring for the next gullible bastard you trick into loving you. You've already got the hardware."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Fitz left, the ruined designs in one hand, but his freedom in the other. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>He walked to his favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood and sent his location to Hunter with a quick caption apologizing.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Monday May 27th, 12:06pm</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz started sharing his location</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Fitz: </b>
  <span>Sorry for breaking the rules</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Hunter: </b>
  <span>I’m on my way</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he waited, he checked his work email and approved the statement to be released. He sent an email to Weaver, as well, explaining the situation, and he attached the recording he’d taken of their conversation. He was researching divorce lawyers when Hunter appeared at his table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Fitz said sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Hunter asked immediately. “Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m fine,” Fitz said. “Not physically hurt. Although my pride took a hit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grant is a Hydra employee that has been trying to get my designs for five years,” Fitz replied, lifting his cup to his mouth and taking a sip. “Oh, and he tripped into me on purpose. So, there’s that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter sank into the chair opposite of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have enough evidence that Shield can bring Hydra to court between Grant admitting that he works for Hydra inside of a bank to get inside information and admitting that he was the one who stole my sketches and gave them to Hydra to use. Corporate espionage will likely land him right back in jail that Garrett supposedly saved him from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re remarkably calm about this,” Hunter commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I might break down crying later, but Grant has controlled enough of my life, so right now, it just feels good to be away from him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re okay, though,” Hunter said. “He didn’t hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he didn’t hurt me. He grabbed my arm, but MAy taught me some self-defense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May taught - of course, she did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not mad at me, are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, baby, I’m not mad. Don’t do it again, but I’m not mad at you. When Izzy said that you’d slipped away, I got worried because you’ve never done that, but - I’m glad you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz reached over the table and took his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, here’s your last chance. I’m officially completely separated from my husband. Do you want to be with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you have to ask,” Hunter said. “I absolutely want to be with you or the rest of our lives. I’m glad we can do it openly now, but I would’ve been content with any amount of you in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m all yours,” Fitz assured him. “All yours.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It came out over the next few months that Hydra had their greasy tentacles in a lot of illegal shit. Beyond trying to intimidate Fitz by ordering several hits on him, bribing officials, and insider trading, Hydra had been caught and accused of employee discrimination and harassment, consumer fraud, discriminatory treatment of customers, financial fraud, and breaches of business contracts. Fitz was asked to testify against them as he had taken the direct confession from Grant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter was there the entire time, and he had the support of his friends, his mum and his da, and all of Shield. Fitz tucked himself easily into Hunter’s life, comfortable there. Shield let his security ease up once Hydra was being brought up on the charges, too busy trying to keep themselves afloat to try and launch some kind of offensive against Fitz specifically. Only Hunter was required when traveling, although they did keep booking two rooms, of which one was never touched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Hunter said one afternoon while they were in New York again, “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s incredibly sweet, and I love you too, but what brought this on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the exact room where I first held you against me while we slept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is also the room you came out of the bathroom practically naked and dripped wet if I recall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had to go back into the bathroom and have a quick wank after you stared at me like you wanted to lick the water off of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t help it, you were naked and wet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is incredibly fair,” Hunter said. “I can concede that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz climbed up onto the bed and into Hunter’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although it definitely gave me some solid information for my fantasies,” Fitz said, sliding his hands up Hunter’s arms, along the line of his neck, and into the soft hair at his nape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that you had to fantasize long. We got together a week later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True. Couldn’t keep my hands to myself once I started having that image in my head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what beautiful hands they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? You like them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, and the rest of you isn’t bad either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed the underside of his jaw, tracing the edge of his beard with his tongue, and Fitz shivered, leaning into his touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to meet your dad?” Hunter asked, which was a bit of a non sequitur, but Fitz had learned over the months that Hunter was just like that sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even a little,” Fitz replied. Hunter leaned away a respectable amount of distance for talking about your parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No? What’s the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Usual nonsense, I guess.” He shook his head at himself, but just because he knew it was irrational didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. “He’s not going to like me for me, or I’m going to disappoint him. He’s had decades to build an image of me in his head, and what if I don’t live up to that image, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get that, but I can also tell you that you live up to every expectation possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you’re in love with me, so that’s a little different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your dad loves you,” Hunter pointed out, “and he’s loved you for longer than I have. He will love you for the person you actually are, because you are wonderful. You’re absolutely the best person in the world, and I have the authority to say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you? How do you have this authority?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, see, I’ve met a lot of people, and based on my sample size, I have correctly deduced that you are definitively the best person in the world. It’s all very sciency you know. I feel like a, a sciencer. Wait, no, that’s not - a scientist!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz chuckled and muttered, “sciencer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hush, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my favorite sciencer,” Fitz replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmhm.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in and kissed Hunter softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling Jemma,” Hunter teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter lifted Fitz up off his lap and dumped him on the mattress before bolting for his phone on the dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance Hunter, don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“It’s all a little surreal,” Fitz said, sitting in his da’s flat the next week, a spread of pastries and snacks on the table between them. His da had certainly gone all out for their first meeting, including a fresh pot of tea. Hunter had sank into the dining chair in disbelief, if his face had anything to say. “It’s hard to believe that all of this happened to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can imagine it seems that way, but at least it’s all passed now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, I hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And even if it isn’t, you’ve come equipped with your own weapon,” he joked, gesturing to Hunter who looked up, startled, halfway through a cheese and cherry danish, a little bit of red cherry sauce on his chin. Fitz leaned over and swiped it away with his thumb. Hunter mouthed a thank you and picked up a napkin for Fitz's thumb. “It is astounding that Hydra went through all that work when they could have just designed their own concept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I was saying!” Fitz said emphatically. “If they just buckled down and did the research, they’d probably come up with something comparable. It’s not like Hydra is lacking in scientific minds. They were just applying them wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hydra approached me years ago, when you were probably about twelve, and offered me this position that was almost impossible to turn down. The pay was fantastic, and the hours were great, but they didn’t want me working on my own projects, but reverse engineering some ideas that they’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>found</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I wasn’t interested in that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they focused more on the work rather than the shortcuts, then they’d get where they wanted to go without things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> happening,” Fitz sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s just not the Hydra way, my boy. Why build what you can steal? Why work when you can cheat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you regret not going with them if the pay was so great?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I have enough money to live comfortably without Hydra’s pockets funding me. Besides, when I left Shield, it wasn’t just because I wanted more money. The research lab I left for had an entire wing of labs open for me, with a whole host of resources, and gave me essentially complete freedom over whatever project I wanted. There’s room for you, Leo, if we could ever tempt you away from Shield.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It is tempting," Fitz said, "but I've come this far with Shield. They've done a lot for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Understandable," his da said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Although, I did have this idea that I don’t quite have all the pieces to make it successful. Usually, this is where Jemma would help out but she’s a little busy being the head of her department here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I can help,” he said, sitting forward. “What’s this idea of yours, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz leaned into the table and excitedly started to outline his idea for a virtual meeting space that would allow people to see and interact with each other as if they were real and the space was real. He could build the technology, of course, but the connectivity to the brain was beyond him. Holden in return leaned forward and listened intently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on,” his da said, and he jumped up to leave the dining room for just a moment. He came back with a sketch pad, and FItz was surprised to see that they used the same brand, and he flipped to a fresh page. They lost themselves in the creation, playing off each other’s ideas, and filled up several sketch pages. It was a start, and FItz was incredibly excited to continue the work on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Fitz said suddenly, glancing at the time. “We have to meet Jemma and Daisy, but this was - this was incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His da carefully tore the pages from the pad, and offered them to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your idea, Leo, your project. It’s an honor just to help you, to work with you. You’re a brilliant engineer, and it’s a wonderful thing to watch you work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz held the pages and looked down at them. He didn’t quite understand the flutter in his chest, but he liked it. He could get used to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - thank you,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to thank me, dear boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fitz fought back the prickle in his eyes, and nodded, carefully shuffling the papers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me get you a portfolio to carry those in,” he said, and he was gone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” Hunter asked from his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Fitz breathed. “I just didn’t expect this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve it, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His da came back with a neat portfolio clearly never used as he was removing the wrapping from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go,” he said, passing it over. He took it and placed their designs in the folder, thumb brushing over the embossed letters on the front without a word. “That should keep everything safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are welcome. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Fitz said. “Absolutely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, lovely,” he replied. There was a genuine bounce to his voice and his posture that was incredibly endearing, and Fitz wondered again who he could have been if Holden Radcliffe had raised him instead of Alistair Fitz. That kind of excitement and love from just being with him for an hour, that could have been his entire childhood. He couldn’t imagine where he’d be with that kind of encouragement since he was born. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holden pulled him into a hug, which Fitz let himself sink into, holding onto him back with all of the relief and joy in his body. He was warm, which was so much more different from his memories of Alistair who had always been cold and distant. Holden was warm, though, and welcoming, and it was such a stark reminder than Fitz wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>a Fitz</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was Holden Radcliffe’s son, and he was Abigail Macleod’s son, and he had nothing to do with Alistair Fitz. He didn’t have to define himself by Alistair anymore. Fitz didn’t have to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fitz</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d felt a little weird about going by that name for a while, especially since learning about Holden. When he let go, he had decided. He brushed his thumb over the cover again with the initials, his potential laid out in print.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>LJR</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Leo said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his da said with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took Hunter’s hand as they left, keeping him close while they walked to the elevator in his da’s apartment building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my god. You just had to sit there while we talked about - I’m sorry,” Leo started, and Hunter chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what have I said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leo took a deep breath and said, “that I don’t have to apologize if I didn’t do anything wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, and you didn’t do anything wrong by talking to your dad, and enjoying your time with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leo,” Hunter said, stopping them and pressing the call button for the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter kissed his temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have fun, though?” Hunter asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. I didn’t realize how good this would be, hanging out with him, talking with him. I’ve never had that, obviously, and the fact that our first meeting was like this? I’m just blown away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leo nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think, I think I’m going to start going by Leo, though, because I’m certainly not a Fitz, and going by it seems false to everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Yeah. Leo,” Hunter said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love the way you say it,” Leo replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunter leaned in and purred in his ear, “Leo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I was thinking, though, while you were nerding out with your dad? There’s an engineering lab in the London branch, and there’s some openings here at the security office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Leo replied slowly. “And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator doors slid open and they stepped on, pressing the ground floor button before starting, “well, you seem really happy here in London. A lot more than at home. What if we consider making that move to London sooner rather than later? You can see your dad more often, have this more often, and we can have Daisy and Jemma over for game nights and I can see Bobbi more, and you’ll be closer to your mum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would get you away from the whole thing with Grant and Garrett, and we could start a home together, pick out a place perfect for the two of us. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could get another cat for Fig to have a friend, and we - why are you looking at me like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just, you’re perfect, that’s all. I would love to. That would be, that would be perfect. A little apartment near a coffee shop, with our cats, where Bobbi, Jemma, and Daisy can just come over, and you can make dinner in a decent sized kitchen, no offense to yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, you’re right. It’s so small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leo rested his head on Hunter’s shoulder as they rode the elevator down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Leo said and paused, tilting his head back just enough to see Hunter’s eyes. He had such nice eyes, expressive and kind, even when he had a temper, even when he was upset. Leo was learning everything about Hunter, about the edges of his attitude, and the less soft parts of him, the ridges left by his trauma, and the places they disagreed, and all of it made Leo love him more. They disagreed about a lot more than Leo had expected, but they always made up, always came back to each other better. “It doesn’t matter where we go, or where we live. I’m happiest with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, yeah, I want to move to London and start our life here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, let’s go share the news with the girls, they’ll be so excited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leo looked at him, and smiled. The elevator doors opened and Leo looked out at the lobby, and the world beyond, London and their future just a step away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To the rest of our lives, then.” </span>
</p>
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